


Stars Sail Out

by lowbudgetcyborg, mm8



Series: Stars Sail Out 'verse [1]
Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: Ableism, Asexual Groot, Community: guardian_kink, Demisexual Rocket Raccoon, Everyone Is Poly Because Guardians, Multi, Non-Binary Groot, OTTEAM, Team as Family, discussion of suicide, kink meme fill that got out of control, making up everything about Drax's homeworld, not volume 2 compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-08-07
Packaged: 2018-12-12 02:40:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 34,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11727801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lowbudgetcyborg/pseuds/lowbudgetcyborg, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mm8/pseuds/mm8
Summary: It's been almost a year since the Battle of Xandar when the team learns some things about Drax's culture's ideas of family and group belonging. To keep Drax with them the team needs to officially be a family. To be a family they will have to confront some of their own issues regarding trust and dependence.AKA about 34k words of our favorite space heroes practicing how to deal with feelings.Art by mm8!See Chapter One notes for more information on the content warnings.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> Re: content warning for discussion of suicide: This warning applies to Chapter 1-3 and Chapter 12. There is no character death in this story.
> 
> Re: content warning for ableism: in this story Rocket displays similar casual ableism to what occurs in movie canon.

Got a road to put my feet upon. --Joan Osborne, “Shake the Devil”

 

The Guardians huddled over a tablet displaying the current configuration of the Itinerant Marketplace on Yula 5. Peter, driven by long habit, mentally cross referenced the list of ships represented with the list of people and groups the Ravagers had pissed off. Gamora and Rocket discussed which traders were likely to have good prices or useful items. Groot took careful note of the layout, in case they needed to get Rocket away from an overly aggressive negotiation. They were almost as tall as Gamora now, and while that was far from their full growth they could certainly carry Rocket and his guns. Drax scanned the list of shops and ships, and suddenly pointed at one.

“That is a Sobav ship.”

“Sobav?” Peter asked.

“Yes, my people. What are they trading?”

Rocket pulled up that ship's blurb,and saw that the description was as dry and to the point as he would expect from Drax's culture. “Says they have replacement parts for environmental systems and passenger and crew quarters, and non-perishable food.”

Drax smiled. “I will visit their stall and attempt to purchase spices.”

Gamora looked at Drax quizzically. “Aren't you Levavathi?”

Drax nodded. “Yes, I am Levavathi; but everyone from Levavas is Levavathi, and Sobav come from east of the Konus mountains.”

This was the most Drax had said about his homeworld at one time that Peter could remember. He hadn't even realized that Levavathi had distinct cultural subgroups. But the universe was surprisingly well-stocked with blue people who were serious about their vengeance, and the Levavathi were only known for being hard to communicate with. Maybe he should ask Drax about his pre-Destroyer life more often? It seemed like the big guy still had a hard time talking about his family in a non vengeance-y context, but Peter got the feeling he'd welcome the excuse.

A trip down memory lane would have to wait though; right now they had to concentrate on getting refueled and restocked before the business day ended or the group tripped over trouble.

“Okay, we've got room in the budget for spices, but we need to go to the produce place first, or there'll be nothing left but bruised fruit and that bland Cetian squash.” Cetian squash tasted like someone had crossbred zucchini with cardboard, but it did have a lot of nutrients in a form that was relatively easy for all of them to digest. The cook on the Eclector had known a dozen ways to sneak it into recipes without boring diners to violence, and Peter was grateful they had passed the knowledge onto him.

“Yes,” Gamora agreed. “We will buy produce first, then Rocket, Groot and I will find parts and ammunition while Peter and Drax find non-perishable food and supplies.”

“I am Groot.”

“Good idea pal. Groot says whoever finishes first should take care of refueling and filling the water tanks,” Everyone nodded agreement.

Rocket privately thought it was hilarious that aside from fighting, flying, chases, and daring escapes, the thing that everyone in their little band of galactic misfits liked to do was visit produce markets. It had been years since his first, most important escape, but he still loved the very act of choosing his own food, and the variety of smells and textures. Gamora was in the stage where unfettered choice was a strange new thrill, he would bet on it. Peter and Drax actually knew how to cook and saw possibilities in each fruit and vegetable. Peter also liked to try and charm the shopkeepers out of free samples, and usually got away with it.

Groot liked to people-watch. They had (hesitantly, aware that their temporary state was Rocket's always) told Rocket that one of the reasons they were so patient about the time it took to regrow was that they enjoyed the different perspective that came with smaller size and different ways people reacted to them when they were perceived as harmless. Now that they were what most sentient species thought of as “adult size” no one was likely to think of Groot as entirely harmless, but there was still a few weeks, maybe even a few months, before people would start to react as if they were a looming monster. Rocket clambered up and clung to their back, digging his toes into the little crevices in their bark. It was more “piggy-back-ride” than majestic, but what the hell. It still gave him a height advantage.

Gamora appreciated that no one tried to hurry her as she walked down every aisle and inspected every fruit, vegetable, and herb on display. Rocket did the same, though he focussed more on the fruit and Groot was doing the actual walking. Peter used the time to deploy his charms against the shopkeeper, winning slices of something pink and crisp for himself and Drax. He bit half off his slice and made pleased noises, then passed her the remaining half. She accepted the piece of fruit and sniffed carefully before putting it in her mouth. It's scent and taste were light and sweet, and it's juice flowed over her tongue as she crunched through it's flesh.

Peter was watching her expectantly, and Drax watched them both with a bemused, almost fond expression.

“It's good, I like it. Thank you.”

Peter smiled and began adding pink fruits to their shopping basket. Drax ate his slice of fruit more slowly; when he had eaten half he offered the remainder to Rocket, who hesitated a moment before delicately snatching it. Rocket turned the piece of fruit over in his hands a couple times before biting into it and licking the juice from his fingers, then offering an awkward thanks. Drax's reply was as solemn and definite as ever, and he still wore that bemused expression.

Drax watched Peter haggle good-naturedly over produce and licked the taste of Trovrian pear off his lips. Years ago he had made a habit of seeking out good food and sharing it with the people in his life, but that was not appropriate for one on a vengeance quest. If you were living only to bring death it should not matter if you were able to witness your friend tasting Trovrian pear for the first time, you should have no time for offers of sharing, and your breath should not hitch in your lungs when such offers are received with trust by those who were never taught to trust.

These were a living person’s desires: that food should do more than fuel his body, that the place where he slept and ate should be home. Such things should not be for him; he should reject those thoughts as distractions... but he did not want to. He could justify it, if he were asked, with the reasoning that the more the Guardians shared the better they would work together, and they more likely they would be able to defeat Thanos. He would not be able to complete his vengeance by himself, therefore the efforts he took to secure the others' goodwill and understanding were still in service to his goal.

Peter paid the shopkeeper and Drax lifted two crates of their purchases, leaving the smallest one for Peter. Gamora, Groot, and Rocket split off in search of parts and ammunition while Drax and Peter returned to the Milano to drop off their crates in the ship's small galley.

Then Drax and Peter made their way towards the Sobav ship's trading stall. Drax restrained himself to Peter's strolling pace. Peter was always observing the people around him. He could seem very self-centered (and it was true that his long kinless years had left him with a strong instinct for self-interest), but he possessed great skill in understanding others, intuiting their desires and predicting their reactions. Drax had never had Peter's level of interpersonal skill, though he had been better at it in his former life. He was trying to re-learn how to think of crowds as people and not landscape.

The stall was staffed by a stocky young woman (Drax would have thought child, if not for the red lines curving outside of her eyes and across her shoulders… did he look so young when he got his first permanent marks?) who looked at them with open curiosity. He was not sure if she recognized them from the news services, or if she was merely surprised to see a Levavathi and a human together. He gave her a polite moment to read his marks. Her eyes got wider as her gaze traveled over his face, chest, and arms.

“You are Drax! The Destroyer!” she exclaimed, loud and a little breathless. She sounded both impressed and surprised. Her words drew an old man from the back of the stall who watched them while the young woman recovered herself enough to ask “What would you like to purchase?”

Peter wondered if social awkwardness was a trait common to all of Drax's people, or if Drax just sort of carried a cloud of it around with him. Not that Peter was going to be judgey about a kid being star-struck by awesome heroes like himself and Drax, that was fine. The weird part was the old guy who just watched while Drax asked about various spices and grains and ran tiny samples through Peter's “will this alien delicacy kill me or give me hives?” analyzer. (Nova Corps had given him an upgraded model with custom settings for the whole crew when they outfitted the rebuilt Milano. Peter was really glad to have it, because he had thought raccoons could eat anything, and it turned out that was totally not true.) Nosey grandpa was giving Drax the same simultaneously judging and pitying look that the school office lady used to give him in the months before his mom died. The look that said “Fighting is against the rules, but we feel so bad for you that we’re going to be nice about it.”

Peter wanted out from under that look and was preparing to hustle Drax away toward the Centaurian dry goods stall as soon as the kid at the till finished transferring their units, but nosey grandpa was quicker. He planted himself in front of Drax, as if Peter wasn’t even there.

“Your quest was against the Kree general known as Ronan, is that correct?”

Drax bowed his head respectfully. “That is correct, Elder.”

“Then your quest is over, unless it is not true that Ronan is dead.”

“Ronan is dead, but I have learned that his actions were directed by Thanos. Thanos is my true target.”

Nosey grandpa shook his head. “It was Ronan who attacked Levavas for the glory of the Kree Empire. It was Ronan who took the life of your wife and child. You do not need to target Thanos to satisfy your duty.”

Drax set his shoulders, though he seemed to have trouble maintaining his usual stubborn stare. “Thanos is my target,” he repeated.

Nosey grandpa leaned in and clasped Drax’s upper arm. His tone was dripping with a condescending concern that set Peter’s teeth on edge. “Your quest will be talked about for generations. You have achieved much more than was expected. You deserve to come home and be with your family.”

Drax bowed his head again. “I do not believe my quest is over, but I will think on your words, Elder.”

That seemed to push the conversation to the limits of politeness, since nosey grandpa backed off. Peter suppressed the urge to ask “What the hell was that?” Vague questions got nowhere with Drax, and their shopping list was only half done.


	2. Two

Moons unearth them. -- Joanna Klink,“Half Omen Half Hope”

 

Peter was sure that he overlooked something important about that conversation. Something was bothering him, beyond the old guy’s attitude and Drax’s still-subdued body language. The nagging feeling remained in the back of his mind as he and Drax finished the shopping, returned to the ship and put away their supplies. It wasn’t until Peter was stuck on hold with the refueling service, and thinking about his mom, getting in trouble at school, and what the hell any of the Guardians might have to call home if it wasn’t the Milano, that it finally occurred to him that whenever Drax talked about being with his family he meant  _ after he was dead _ .  Peter froze and his jaw dropped open, but the words “Fuck you nosy grandpa!” stuck in his throat just long enough to avoid an embarrassing moment as the refueling office clerk picked up his line. 

 

Gamora, Groot and Rocket returned while Peter was finishing up with the refueling service. For a few minutes there was a collective hustle of putting things away. Peter managed to keep his mouth shut until the very last replacement filter and backup part was stowed, but he needed to talk to Drax about what nosy grandpa had said, and he’d be damned if he was going to do it alone. 

 

“So, um, was that old guy telling you that you should go back to your homeworld and kill yourself? Because that’s what it sounded like he was telling you.”

 

Gamora tensed, eyes wide. Groot froze. Rocket stood up straighter, fur bristling. “What?” he growled. 

 

Drax let out a small breath, too brief to be a sigh. “That would be the pious thing to do.”

 

“So, what? You killed your bad guy and now you’re going to ditch us?” 

 

Peter winced inwardly. That was not a useful thing for Rocket to say, but, on the other hand, Peter had been thinking it so he was kind of relieved that Rocket had said it. And on the third hand, he was glad Rocket wasn’t pretending not to care.

 

“I am  _ Groot _ !”

 

Gamora sliced her hands through the air, gesturing for them all to shut up. “What happened? Who is this old guy?”

 

“I do not know his name,” Drax began, “He is Sobav Levavathi, like myself. He had heard of my quest and our victory against Ronan. He wished to remind me that most would consider my quest to be over and that I could join my family without shame.”

 

Drax seemed to falter under the weight of four variously angry and stricken gazes. He sat down on a sturdy crate, his hands resting on his knees. “I told him that Thanos was my true target.”

 

Gamora stood absolutely still, observing intently. Groot pressed close to Rocket and absently smoothed the fur on his arms. Rocket fidgeted, checking the fastenings of his holsters and swishing his tail against Groot’s leg. Peter leaned against a bulkhead and stuffed his hands in his pockets, fighting his instinct to start talking and try to take control of the situation. 

 

“I had thought that declaring Thanos as my target was right, because Hovat often said that it did little good to fix  _ part _ of a problem and ignore the rest.” Drax actually smiled at that, one of the smallest, most painful smiles Peter had ever seen. “But now I realize that on Levavas my people will think that I am over-reaching out of vanity, or that in my anger I have forgotten even my reason for vengeance. I do not think that is so, but I know that I am prideful and that my self-assessment is not as accurate as it was before my family died.”

 

Peter took his hands out of his pockets and tried to shake the tension out of his shoulders. “Ok, I get that it looks bad to be a glory-hou…uh, glory-seeker on interplanetary news, but why is killing yourself the pious thing to do?”

 

“For Levavathi, to not have a family is to have no place in the universe. We do not believe that a person can be whole unless they are part of something larger than themselves. So if someone is truly the last of their family it is right for them to end this embodiment and join the others.” He drew a deep breath and gathered his reserves to continue. “My family was a small one. My mother died when Kamaria was a baby. My fathers died in the bombardment when the Kree attacked. But Ronan killed Hovat and Kamaria with his own hands, which is murder and must be avenged. If they had been at my parents’ house and died in the bombardment as well I would never have left Levavas and I would be with them now.”

 

Groot leaned forward earnestly. “I am groot?” they asked gently. 

 

Rocket’s head snapped up. “No, it doesn’t matter what he wants. He doesn’t get to off himself because some jerkwads think gunning for Thanos is  _ in poor taste _ !” He turned toward Drax and pointed at him angrily. “Groot almost died for you; you’re not allowed!” 

 

Drax's eyes widened momentarily in surprise, then he closed them tightly and bowed his head. His hands tightened on his thighs and the air rushed out of his lungs.

 

Groot reached out and wrapped their hand around Rocket’s, then gently pressed it back down. They kept their hand on Rocket’s arm and let their long fingers curl slightly over his chest. Gamora crept up to Rocket’s other side, squeezing his shoulder and then patting Groot before taking a couple tentative steps towards Drax.

 

Peter sat on the deck by Drax’s crate and leaned back, letting his head thunk against it. “We don’t want you to go anywhere, man.” Peter hated how small his voice sounded. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Can this be bigger enough?” He lifted his hands and spread his fingers in a gesture meant to encompass the five of them and the Milano, then let his hands fall to his lap. 

 

Gamora closed the distance between herself and Drax and laid a hand between his shoulderblades.

 

His skin was warmer than hers, and she could feel the raised lines of his marks. The tension in his muscles eased minutely and he leaned into her touch. She was one of the deadliest women in the galaxy, and he accepted the gentleness she barely knew how to offer as if he had no reason to fear her. “You  _ are _ part of something here, with us.”

 

“Is it a family?” Drax asked without looking up.

 

“So what makes a family?” Rocket crowded up to Drax and made a gesture that seemed originally intended to be poking him in the leg, but ended with possessively grasping the fabric of Drax's pants. “Seriously, I never had one. Tell me how it works. The list of people I give a flark about is so short I figure it has to count as much as some shared genetic sequences, right?”

 

Drax answered with his usual directness. “Family is defined by shared ancestors or legal binding.”

 

“I am groot?” Groot had followed Rocket and once again stood close enough that the agitated movements of Rocket's tail brushed against their legs. They reached out and lightly touched the back of Drax's hand with their viney fingertips.

 

Gamora and Peter both looked at Groot and then at Rocket.

 

“Yeah,  _ can _ we do that? Shared ancestors is out, but how does legal binding work on your world?”

 

Drax finally looked up. “Legal binding can be either marriage or adoption. There are a few types of adoption contracts and a great deal of variety in marriage contracts. I would not like to attempt to explain all options right now.”

 

He briefly clasped Groot’s hand with one of his, and patted Peter's shoulder with the other. “I had not intended to talk about this today. I think it would be best to have dinner and resume this discussion tomorrow.”

 

Peter nodded and everyone else backed up a step or two. Rocket's tail was still bristled up and twitching, and he climbed Groot and clung to their back as they began to move towards the galley. Gamora remembered a day when she had followed the smell of food and found Drax working at a tablet with Rocket draped over him while the oven timer ticked down and Groot napped in their pot. Even now that Groot was big enough to bear Rocket’s weight Rocket would still occasionally climb Drax when he needed a little extra height, or (as far as she could tell) just to see how the big man would react.

 

Drax slowly stood. He looked tense and tired, as if this conversation had been more harrowing for him than a battle. Gamora would definitely rate it much worse than a battle in terms of how much she didn't want to have to do it again. Peter reached up a hand and Drax hauled him to his feet. They stood together for a moment, hands clasped, before Peter moved in for a hug. Gamora surprised herself by joining them. Peter was even more tense than Drax. He leaned his head against Drax’s shoulder and his breaths were rapid and shaky. Drax put one arm around Gamora’s waist and stroked down Peter’s back with his other hand. “I am not going anywhere tonight,” he said quietly. “I do not want to go anywhere.” 

 

Peter nodded, then straightened up. “Okay. Okay.”

 

Dinner that night was much quieter than normal for an on-planet stop. Peter made the creamy noodle dish that he often made when emotional upsets coincided with his turn to cook. He drew Rocket into a conversation about how well the ship was running, but everyone else mostly ate in silence. After dinner Drax retreated to his bunk. The rest of the group faced each other around the table. 

 

“Drax said he doesn't want to leave,” Gamora said for Rocket and Groot’s benefit. “He must want us to help him find a solution for this.”

 

“The solution is his culture’s ideas about personal worth are stupid.” Rocket growled.

 

“Ugh.” Gamora rolled her eyes. “I don’t disagree, but that’s an opinion, not a solution.”

 

Peter facepalmed, but he laughed a little too. 

 

“I am groot?” Groot said insistently. 

 

“We’re not forgetting that you had an actual idea. But your idea was for someone to marry Drax. You do realize that’s kind of a big deal?”

 

“Do tree people even have marriage?” Peter asked.

 

“Flora Colossi,” Rocket corrected.

 

“I am groot.” Groot made a complicated gesture with both hands, their fingers gracefully weaving together and apart. “I  _ am _ groot.”

 

“They have ceremonies to formalize and celebrate lifelong friendship and personal allegiance.” Rocket tilted his head. “Well, sounds like it’s in the same quadrant at least.”

 

“This is totally going on the list of things I never thought I’d have to say,” Peter began, “I would happily marry Drax rather than have him commit ritual suicide… but I don’t even know if he swings that way.”

 

Gamora looked at Peter. “Do you ‘swing that way’?”

 

“I, uh, swing every way.” He began to pick up bowls and utensils and stack them in the sink. “What about you?”

 

She only replied because he asked it so casually, with no trace of leering. “I’ve had  _ interest _ in men and women… but my experience is limited.” 

 

Peter nodded, as if unsurprised. “All work and no play.”

 

Rocket traced a crack in the tabletop with his claws. “Before you ask, I ain’t playing this game tonight.” 

 

“That’s alright, you don’t have to disclose.” Gamora reached across the table and offered her hand, palm up. Rocket began tracing her lines and calluses.

 

“I-am-groot.” Groot waved airily and Rocket chuckled.

 

“Yeah, we know it doesn’t work like that for you.”

 

They sat, each mulling over their own thoughts, while Peter washed and dried the dishes and Groot put them away. When everyone went to their bunks Gamora found herself missing the warmth of Rocket’s hand in hers, and of Drax’s arm around her waist. She added another blanket and began a series of breath exercises that she knew would calm her to sleep. 


	3. Three

...at the break of day/ start again... --Leonard Cohen, “Anthem”

 

Though Drax awoke early the next morning he could hear Rocket and Groot already moving around. When the Milano was planetside Groot liked to take in some morning sun and people-watching before the days got busy. Rocket would usually make himself a large mug of tea and then follow them outside. Drax waited until the two left the ship before he emerged from his bunk. He knew that Rocket was upset with him, and also that one on one time with Groot was important to Rocket’s emotional wellbeing. 

 

Despite the hours he had slept, Drax still felt unusually worn-out. He stared at the galley cupboards for long moments as he tried to transform the thought  _ you should eat breakfast _ into an actual course of action. He could hear Rocket and Groot’s voices through the partially open cargo bay door. Everything appetizing seemed like too much effort, so he chose a bland meal bar and began to return to his bunk. He did not wish to overhear Rocket and Groot’s conversation. With this many people living in such close quarters privacy was important.  

 

He paused at Rocket’s aggressive and wary “Who’re you and whadda you want?” The only people the Guardians had business with today were the fuel and water merchants, and Rocket was too experienced a spacer to speak so rudely to one of them. 

 

“I want to speak with Drax the Destroyer!” He recognized the voice of the elder he had spoken with yesterday.

 

“Nope, he’s ours. Go away.” Drax could easily imagine Rocket’s aggressive stance: arms crossed, fur bristled, teeth showing. He started towards the cargo bay door. He did not know what weapons Rocket was carrying and he thought it might be best to stop the confrontation before Rocket decided to use them. They were, after all, trying to maintain a good reputation in this sector. 

 

“He is… yours?” Drax almost laughed at the obvious bafflement in the elder’s voice. He wondered if it was due to his companions’ strangeness or to the vague nature of the possessive when  translated from Galactic Trade Standard. 

 

“Yeah, he belongs to the Guardians of the Galaxy. And we’re not gonna let you talk to him, especially if you’re the jerk that was talking to him yesterday.” 

 

“ _ I _ am  _ grrroot _ ,” Groot seconded in their most definite tone of voice. 

 

Drax stepped out of the ship and onto the dusty ground of the docks. Rocket, as Drax had predicted, faced the elder with his arms crossed and his fur bristled out. Groot stood beside him, copying his stance. They had many leaves unfurled to catch the morning sunlight, and the effect was as if they too were bristling. 

 

The elder addressed Drax. “These beings claim that you belong to them. Is this true or is it outsider nonsense?”

 

Drax did not like the way the elder spoke over Rocket and Groot’s heads. He moved up to stand beside Rocket. “They have fought many battles with me, including the one against Ronan. Groot almost died to protect me and our other companions, and it has been my honor and privilege to aid them as they regained their strength.”

 

Groot’s leaves rustled as they turned toward Drax with a wide smile. “I aam groot,” they said softly. Rocket huffed a tiny exasperated breath at Groot’s failure to maintain an intimidating pose. 

 

“If I belong to anyone in the living universe it is the Guardians,” Drax concluded.  

 

The elder frowned and Drax thought that he looked less like an authority figure and more like a peevish grandfather. “Their claim may have some validity, but there can be no bond without a contract.” He then turned and stalked back towards his own ship before anyone else could have the last word. 

 

“Oh my god, was nosey grandpa just scolding you for living in sin?”

 

Drax, Groot and Rocket turned to see Gamora and Peter standing in the cargo bay door. Peter was shirtless and they were both barefoot with untidy hair, as if they had risen hastily from their bunks. Peter was smiling. Drax was glad to see that after how frightened Peter had been last night. The sight of them, of the whole crew blinking at each other in the morning light, filled Drax with a sense of longing that he had only lately realized how to name.

 

“I do not understand what you mean by  _ living in sin _ .”

 

Peter stretched and yawned as he walked backwards into the cargo bay. Gamora dodged ahead of him impatiently, and everyone else followed him inside.  “It’s what they call it on Terra when a man and a woman live together without being married.”

 

Drax’s brow furrowed. “They only say that of a man and a woman? Do they have different terms for when other kinds of couples or groups do so?” 

 

Peter shrugged. “If they do no one mentioned it around me.” After a moment he added “I don’t actually know if they don’t have non-heterosexual or polyamorous people on Terra, or if they do and it’s so taboo no one would talk about it around a kid.” 

 

Peter had led them into the galley, where Gamora was staring at the cupboards much the same way Drax had done a few minutes before. “It’s probably a taboo,” she said as she began to open cupboards and peer in. “Every sentient species with more than one gender and deliberate mate selection has a variety of preferences.” She pulled out a cannister of grain porridge mix and began to prepare enough for the crew. “I promise, there  _ must _ be non-heterosexual Terrans. Otherwise it would be unique in the annals of xeno-anthropology.” 

 

Peter slumped at the table and combed his fingers through his hair. “You really think so?” His tone was hopeful.  Drax had witnessed Peter flirting with beings of many different species and genders. Had Peter truly feared he was the only non-heterosexual Terran? 

 

Gamora grinned widely at the food she was preparing and looked at Peter out of the corners of her eyes. “You’re not that special, Quill.”

 

Peter’s laughter echoed off the bulkheads and Drax smiled for the first time since the previous afternoon. 

 

Groot and Rocket ambled back outside so that Groot could absorb a few more minutes of sunlight while Rocket slurped his tea. Gamora started to hum one of Peter’s songs as she stirred the food, and Peter joined in very quietly. Gamora would usually restrict her personal expression if there were signs that others were paying attention to her. Drax sat across from Peter and Peter leaned forward with one elbow on the table and his chin propped in his hand. He extended the other arm toward Drax. Drax leaned forward as well, mirroring Peter, and covered Peter’s hand with his own.  

  
Drax thought of the previous night, and how open Peter had been with his sorrow and fear at the thought of losing Drax. He thought of Gamora and Groot’s gentle concern, and Rocket’s possessive outrage. Their reactions had evoked a profound feeling in him that he hadn’t had the focus to explore before he fell asleep. It felt something like when he was a young man and had finally realized the extent of the effort his parents put into their family and household, and how long he had taken that for granted.  _ Humbled _ , he thought,  _ I am humbled by their care _ .


	4. Four

If what is no longer present ...cannot be restored,/ It can at least be offered. --Joanna Klink,“Half Omen Half Hope”

 

Neither Drax nor Peter moved until Groot and Rocket returned and Gamora served everyone breakfast. Breakfast was, thankfully, not as quiet as dinner. 

 

“You didn’t answer my question,” Peter gestured at Drax with his spoon, “Was nosey grandpa scolding you for… I dunno, whatever he thinks you’re doing… out of wedlock?” 

 

Drax chewed and swallowed. “I think he meant it as a warning, not chastisement. Many Levavathi do not trust outsiders.”

 

"But we’d be trustworthy if we had a contract, like the old guy mentioned?” Rocket asked.

 

“He was talking about a marriage contract, and Levavathi take marriage contracts very seriously.” It was not that he didn’t think the others would respect the importance of marriage in his culture, but he wanted to be sure they understood it.

 

Groot had sat next to Drax, and Rocket climbed into their lap and stood there facing Drax eye-to-eye. “We are taking it seriously. We want to make it official that you’re ours,”  Rocket said. His speech was quite plain and solemn compared to his usual bantering and teasing manner.

 

“You belong with us,” Peter’s tone had just as much conviction as Rocket’s. 

 

“We care about you. We want you to stay with us,” Gamora lightly touched his arm and smiled a little. “Even if we are all still learning how to be a group. If you need a formal relationship then we will make that happen.”

 

Drax looked at his companions and saw hope and determination in their faces. The humility he felt mixed strangely with a yearning to accept what was offered, to be a whole and living person again, to be bound to these strange and wonderful people who showed him such trust and care. In the past months he had relearned to want more than vengeance and he did not think that could be undone. 

 

Groot’s gaze met his. “Ah. We  _ are _ groot.”

 

Rocket caught his breath and swallowed, but didn’t offer a translation. No matter. The intent was clear enough. 

 

Peter leaned forward earnestly. “So what we’re saying is, you have a family here. If you want it. Want  _ us _ . Marry us? Or, or, one of us? Whatever’s gonna work for…”

 

Drax gently cupped his hand around Peter’s cheek, stilling his speech. “Yes. I want you. All of you.”

 

He drew in a deep breath, although his lungs and throat were tight with overwhelm. “I want to embrace you, and battle beside you, and share food with you. To know you as a living man instead of one who seeks death. For weeks and months I have wanted that. And I want to want these things with honor and wholeness instead of silence and denial. If you want to be mine then I will gladly be yours.” 

 

“Yeah!” Peter crowed with a mix of triumph and relief. 

 

He rose to his feet and leaned over the table to put both hands on Drax’s shoulders. After a moment’s pause he moved closer to kiss Drax lightly on the mouth. Drax put his hands at Peter’s waist to steady them both and leaned into the kiss. Then everyone was touching Drax. Gamora rested her cheek against his shoulder and wrapped her arms around him, very tightly at first but quickly easing up, as if she had not meant to use so much of her considerable strength. Groot extended their arms to embrace everyone, squeezing Rocket against him. Rocket did not push away, but instead pressed close to Drax’s torso and dug his fingers into the spaces between Drax’s marks. Drax let go of Peter to put his arms around Gamora. Peter caught Groot in an enthusiastic hug that half included Rocket. Rocket turned and squirmed up Groot’s side so he could get his arm around Peter’s neck. 

 

Drax held Gamora gently; he did not want her to feel trapped. She smiled up at him and he smiled in return. “May I kiss you?”

 

“Yes,” she answered, rising on her toes to meet his mouth with hers. 

 

She was obviously less experienced at kissing than Peter; her kiss was tentative and experimental. Drax stroked his hands down her sides to her hips and back up to her ribs over and over and let her take the lead. She got bolder by increments until she was clutching his shoulders and nearly sucking on his bottom lip before she suddenly stopped and took in a deep breath. Her eyes were wide and her neck was flushed darker green. 

 

She turned her head and Drax realized that the others were watching them intently. Groot’s expression was pleased and fond, Rocket’s was captivated, and Peter’s was happy and a little lustful. 

 

Peter held his hands out towards Gamora. “May  _ I _ kiss you? ‘Cause that looked really nice.”

 

She stepped into his space and took his hand. “You may kiss me, as long as you know it’s  _ not _ because I’m succumbing to your pelvic sorcery.”

 

“Duly noted,” Peter replied as he bent his head towards hers. 

 

Drax had a moment to appreciate the sight of them together, but then Groot was tugging him to their side. “I am groot,” they said with laughter in their voice, then turned to Rocket (who was now standing on the table) and said in a quieter, more coaxing tone “I  _ am groot _ .”

 

Rocket looked from Groot to Drax, then leapt to Drax’s shoulders and curled around to nuzzle his face in the crook of Drax’s neck. Drax felt the puff of air as Rocket sighed. “I know pal, but you don’t have to be so smug about it.”

 

Gamora expected that Peter would kiss like it was a victory; he was, after all, attaining something she had previously denied him. But the soft press of his lips was more like a celebration of defeat narrowly averted. She could feel a faint tremor in his hands where they rested on her waist. When she pulled away to catch her breath Peter murmured “He’s staying,” against her lips. 

 

“We’re all staying,” she murmured back. “You’ll never have the ship to yourself again.” 

 

“I can live with that.” 

 

He kissed her hair, which was both odd and touching, then stood up straight. He took her hand again. Rocket was still slung across Drax’s shoulders, with his face buried in Drax’s neck. Groot leaned back against Drax’s chest. 

 

“I am groot…” they said wistfully into the quiet. 

 

Rocket’s reply was slightly muffled. “When you’re full grown  _ we’ll _ lean on  _ you _ .” 

 

“Mmm…” They smiled up at Rocket. 

 

“Okay,” Peter said to the room, “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I feel like I got hardly any sleep last night. We’ve got about three hours before we’re scheduled to re-fuel. I’m gonna put all the bunks together and celebrate with a nap. Who want’s to join me?” 

 

“I do,” Drax agreed instantly. 

 

“Sounds good,” Rocket said a moment later, and Groot nodded. 

 

Gamora fought the urge to decline. She could function well at this level of fatigue and didn’t want to give the impression that she couldn’t. She reminded herself that she was allowed to want rest and the warmth of her friends around her. None of the Guardians would judge her for this. She nodded and squeezed Peter’s hand. 

 

Rocket and Peter had built a folding third bunk to match the two built into the ship. It could be set up anywhere there was enough deck, but it also fit exactly between the two bunks, combining them into one big mattress. So far they had only done that when extra cargo had taken up a lot of deck space or that one time when the environmental controls had malfunctioned and everyone had been too cold to sleep alone. Even Rocket and then-still-tiny Groot had abandoned the little bunk Rocket had  installed for himself near the ceiling and piled in with her, Drax, and Peter.

 

As everyone filed into the crew quarters and Peter unfolded the big bunk Gamora was momentarily overwhelmed with wondering how the relationships between the team members were going to change.  _ Will Peter continue to seek out sexual partners or will he expect to confine his sexual activities to the group. Will  _ I _? What will Drax want? Does Rocket even  _ have _ sex? Does Groot have anything  _ like _ sex? _ She firmly directed her mind away from her questions and retrieved her pillow and a blanket from her own bunk .  _ We will have this conversation when everyone is rested. _

 

Groot took a blanket from Rocket’s bunk and sat on the edge of the bed. Gamora had never seen them sleep lying down, but always standing or sitting. Rocket jumped from Drax’s shoulders and sat next to Groot. Gamora wanted both to be in the middle and to be unconfined, so she quickly settled next to Rocket as a compromise between those desires. Peter nudged Drax into the middle and dropped a blanket on him before crawling in between Drax and the wall. Drax was facing her and she rolled over and wriggled down until the back of her head was level with his chest. Rocket curled up on his side with his head almost touching Groot’s thigh and Groot tucked his blanket around him with the ease of long habit. Drax rested a hand on her ribs and she could feel the warmth of it even through her blanket. She could hear rustling as Peter arranged his long limbs and his blanket, but he soon stilled. 

 

Peter was the first to fall asleep, then Rocket. They were both experts at willing themselves to sleep after years of irregular schedules. Groot fell asleep after Rocket. Gamora tried to sleep. She was warm and comfortable and she liked being surrounded by friends, but she was so emotionally keyed up that she could not fully relax. Drax’s breathing was slow and artificially regular, as if he too was trying to sleep but not quite managing it. She matched her breathing to his and focussed on the feeling of his chest expanding and contracting behind her. After a few minutes his breathing grew irregular: short inhalations with long pauses before the exhalations. His arm was tense and when he swallowed with a tiny sound like effort or pain it was loud in the close quiet.  _ Oh _ . Gamora rolled over to face him and rose on one elbow. His eyes looked wider and more guileless than ever. Tear tracks shone on his face in the dim light. 

 

“How can I help?” she whispered. 

 

“Just be here with me,” he whispered back. “All I can do with these feelings is feel them.”

 

She lay back down and tucked her arms between them. She let Drax hold her tightly as he cried and she tried to become comfortable with how inexpert she was at comforting. Peter made an incoherent noise, plastered himself against Drax’s back, and threw his free arm around both Drax and Gamora. Drax’s tears ceased after about twenty minutes and Gamora fell asleep listening to his breathing become deep and even once more.


	5. Five

 

Groot woke to the mid-morning sun streaming through the viewport in the crew quarters. They rose and unfurled dozens and dozens of leaves to soak up the solar energy, then swayed gently from side to side and admired the way the green-tinted, leaf-dappled light played over their sleeping friends. Groot’s adventures had taken them many strange places, but into a group bond with four mammals would definitely be the strangest. Groot was somewhat surprised that Rocket had agreed so readily, since he did not like to acknowledge interdependence, but he had relied on Drax quite a lot while Groot was tiny. Most tellingly, he had relied on Drax to help protect Groot. 

 

Rocket shifted and one of his legs flopped over the side of the mattress. Groot extended an arm and gently lifted it back up, then tucked Rocket’s blanket around him again. Groot was glad to be able to do that after months of not having enough mass to grow their reach more than a few inches. Getting back to their  _ full _ mass would be good, but they would miss being able to lean their weight against their friends. They weren’t certain if the other Guardians understood the level of trust the gesture implied among Flora Colossi, but the affection seemed to be universal. 

 

Rocket blinked awake and raised his head. “Eh? Oh, hey.” He sat up and began to smooth down his rumpled fur. “Did we really get engaged to these idiots?” he asked in a whisper. 

 

“Mmm-hmm.” Groot nodded, leaves rustled, and shadows danced. 

 

“Remind me, when we tell Lylla about this, to specifically mention that I was sober.”

 

Rocket slid off the bed and climbed Groot’s front until he could rest his chin on their shoulder. “I hope this crazy plan of yours works, because we don’t have a backup.”

 

Groot combed their fingers through the fur behind Rocket’s ears. “ _ It will work. We’re already something more than we were before the Kyln. Whatever winds come we will bear them together. _ ” 

 

The other Guardians slept until it was time to deal with refueling and getting the water tanks topped off, then performed a maintenance check on the environmental systems before queuing for takeoff clearance. If there were more touches than usual it was only by degrees. Certainly it was normal now for Rocket to make Drax boost him up to reach high-set access panels. It was normal for Peter to spin Groot into brief dances as they passed each other in the Milano’s decks. It was normal for Gamora to offer gentle pats and caresses, and for Drax to stand in the perfect spot for Groot or Peter to lean against him. Today Peter danced a few extra steps and Rocket sat on Drax’s shoulder even when he didn’t have an excuse to. Drax reached for Gamora’s hands and put his arm around Groot. He leaned his head against Peter’s and stroked Rocket’s fur and  _ smiled _ .  Rocket even smiled back, open-mouthed and happy instead of his more usual fierce grin. 


	6. Six

 

After they had left Yula 5 behind them and laid in a course for their next destination everyone drifted to the main room next to the galley. Peter and Drax finished updating the galley inventory and started meal planning for the next couple weeks. Gamora and Groot were both busy with tablets, and Rocket was trying to design some improvements to the Hadron Enforcer, but he couldn’t focus on it. He finally decided he was wasting energy and set his own tablet aside. 

 

“So, Drax, how does marriage work with your people? You said you want all of us, so I’m assuming that’s legal there? Is there some big ritual or do we just sign paperwork, or what?”

 

_ Oh good, that got everyone’s attention _ . They definitely needed to talk about this now or Rocket was going to spend the whole night thinking up more questions about it. His only experience with weddings was lurking near them to catch a bounty, but they sure seemed to be a big deal to regular people. 

 

Drax looked like he didn’t quite understand the question. “Most of the ritual is about the contract. The ritual and the paperwork cannot be separated. Is it that different on other worlds?”

 

Everyone looked at each other. Rocket would bet they were all thinking the same thing:  _ Why the hell is he asking _ us  _ what regular people do with regular people relationships?  _

 

“Well,” Gamora offered, “On most worlds there is some kind of religious ceremony or social gathering, and some form of official documentation to file with the government, but the details are different everywhere.” 

 

“With the Ravagers, if you shared a bunk with someone and said they could have your stuff if you died, then you were pretty much married.”

 

Groot grinned and nudged Rocket. “I am groot!”

 

Rocket grinned back. “Heh. Just don’t expect me to apologize for the anniversaries I’ve missed.” He turned to Drax again; “Tell us more about the contracts.”

 

Drax gathered his thoughts for a moment before answering. “Marriage contracts are very detailed, and each couple or group writes their own. There are a few things that must be in a contract for it to be legally recognized, and a few clauses that have been outlawed for sentient-rights reasons, but there is as much diversity in contracts as there is in marriages.”

 

“How much diversity is there is Levavathi marriages?” Peter asked. “What I remember from Earth is always one man and one women with the idea that they were going to have kids together, but I’ve seen a lot of other stuff in different systems.”

 

“A lot of Levavathi marriages are like that, but many involve more than two people or homosexual couples, or other genders. Whether or not the group intends to have children and how they will handle unintended pregnancies or fertility problems is one of the subjects that must be addressed in a marriage contract.” 

 

Gamora looked thoughtful. “Will we have to write the entire contract ourselves?”

 

“No. There are templates, and we can hire a contract facilitator or mediator to help us,” Drax said reassuringly. He picked up the tablet he and Peter had been working on and swiped the galley inventory to the side of the screen. “I am attempting to find a template on spacenet.”

 

After a couple minutes of poking around he displayed a document on the main screen above the table. “This is an explanation of Levavathi marriage practices written for offworlders.”

  
Rocket imported a copy to his own tablet and skimmed it. Apparently couples and groups were expected to come to agreement on the contract before even  _ talking _ about the wedding ceremony and celebration. The “must include” subject list was:

 

  * finances
  * children
  * sexual relations
  * conflict resolution
  * terms for contract renegotiation



The “not required but recommended” list was:

  * household chores
  * relationships with in-laws
  * long term life-goals/retirement plans



_ This actually isn’t so bad _ . There was none of the flower petals, moonlit walks, and soul-communion bullshit that Rocket associated with humie courtship. He liked acquiring information and making plans, and he liked being asked for his thoughts and opinions. He wasn’t looking forward to talking about his weirdness regarding sex, and the in-laws discussion could get pretty awkward (what with Gamora’s on again-off again hope to lure her sister over to the side of mostly-good, and the fact that half of Peter’s family was an ancient cosmic question mark), but most of the rest of it seemed like stuff they would have to deal with anyway, even if they just stayed a bunch of jackasses flying around together and didn’t get married. 

Peter looked up at the main screen, wide-eyed. “That’s some big stuff… I mean, obviously you’d want to deal with the big stuff, but whoa. Where do we start?”

“When Hovat and I wrote our contract the facilitator told us to start by privately writing down what we wanted without thinking of what the other’s opinion was. Honesty and self-knowledge are necessary for this process.” Drax’s voice still got tighter whenever he talked about Hovat, which wasn’t often. 

Peter inched closer to Drax in a silent offer of comfort. Gamora looked around the table solemnly.  Rocket thought she might be a little freaked out. She probably didn’t have a lot of practice at wanting things for herself. He remembered that feeling. But hey, at least everyone was equally clueless here.


	7. Seven

 

They were two days out from a short job in the Uacrides Union (a mildly challenging data heist against a company that was definitely neglecting worker safety and possibly using slave labor), and  everyone agreed to spend that time thinking about what they wanted in the marriage contract. 

 

Meanwhile, there were other, smaller, negotiations. That night everyone piled onto the big bunk again. Peter climbed in by the wall and Drax spooned up to him. Then Rocket pushed his way to the middle and lounged against Drax while absently tracing the raised lines of his marks. Gamora stretched out on her side between Rocket and Groot. She had noticed that Rocket often coped with his discomfort at admitting his need for physical contact by doing it in a belligerent or demanding way, but so far he seemed very careful to demand no more than his companions wanted to give.  Her own coping mechanism was to pretend that affectionate touch felt normal, and to hope that one day it really would.  

 

Again Peter was the first to fall asleep.  He was curled around Drax with one pale arm standing out against the blue-grey and red of Drax’s chest and his legs tucked behind Drax’s legs. Rocket craned his neck to look at Peter over Drax’s shoulder. “Aww, they’re so cute when when they’re sleeping.” He smirked: sharp bravado to cover how not sarcastic he was being. “Guess I should get some sleep too.” He slid off the bed and went to his own individual bunk. He left the soundproof privacy curtain open a few inches, as he had always done since Groot got too tall to share the bunk with him. Groot sat near Rocket’s bunk, leaned back against the bulkhead and closed their eyes. Gamora fell asleep between Drax and the wall, and woke up cocooned in her blanket and Drax’s.

 

Bedtime the next night was almost the same, and it occurred to Gamora that Peter was falling asleep on Drax on purpose to make sure that Drax didn’t sleep alone. And to avoid any discussion of separating the bunks.

 

Between the minimal tasks needed to keep the ship running smoothly and on course for two days the team worked on what Peter called the rough draft of their marriage. Gamora couldn’t tell if thinking of it that way made it more or less intimidating. She supposed it was good to keep in mind that she didn’t have to get everything perfect on the first try. She could easily come up with several workable plans for ship finances and chores, and would not hesitate to request that the team use only non-lethal force if they encountered Nebula, but she had no idea what she wanted with regards to children and reproduction and very little idea about sex, or planning for the future, or healthy conflict resolution. Thanos had encouraged duels. The Guardians tried to use reasoned arguments and voting, but it sometimes devolved into yelling at each other until someone said something horrible, or until everyone ran out of things to say that weren’t horrible and just stared at each other while choking on their own words. It was strange to want to kick someone in the face for their sheer foolishness, and yet not want to hurt their feelings.


	8. Eight

...forward with all of my might... -- Gossip, “Move in the Right Direction”

 

The data heist went well; their client had supplied them with accurate information and there was minimal fighting and running required. After a three day flight back towards the center of Nova territory they would meet their contact and exchange memory crystals for units, but for now there wasn’t much to do besides monitor the autopilot and remember to eat at reasonable intervals.

 

Everyone gathered around the main table with their tablets and looked at each other nervously. “Let’s start with money,” Peter suggested, “We’ve talked about money plenty before, so this is kind of an easy one.” Gamora and the others nodded in agreement, but no one spoke. After a moment Peter continued. “Okay... guess I’ll go first. I think we should keep dividing the take like we do now, and I want to make you all part owners of the Milano.” They all agreed that the current loot division system was working. Rocket had a couple suggestions about how to pay temporary team-members if they ever needed to hire someone else for a job. This segued into household (or in their case, shipboard) chores. There was a little gentle bickering, but they had resolved the major chore roster conflicts months ago, and this proved to be another easy topic.  

 

“Alright, those were the easy ones.” Rocket leaned forward in his seat and scratched his ear.  “Let’s get one of the hard ones over with.”

 

“Children.” Gamora blurted out. “I… I don’t know how to answer that except _not now_. I don’t know what I’ll think five or ten years from now. I have a contraceptive implant, so unintended pregnancy isn’t a concern.”

 

Peter nodded. “Yeah, I have a contraceptive implant too, and I should probably figure out what my other half is before I even think about biologically reproducing. I like kids, but I don’t know if I’ll ever have a kid-friendly lifestyle.”

 

Gamora wondered if either of them could recognize a child-friendly lifestyle if it walked up to them wearing an ID badge.

 

Groot displayed their written answer on the main screen instead of speaking through Rocket: _I have already contributed towards the future of my sapline, and I will support everyone’s personal decisions regarding genetic contributions. I would be pleased to help nurture another generation if the group wants to become parents._

 

Rocket fiddled with his tablet. “Look, I don’t even know if I can biologically reproduce, and I’m sure not looking for that kind of responsibility, and I’m no kind of role-model... but if we’re ever in a place like where I came from and there are sentients there, I’m springing them. If they’re too young to look after themselves then I’ll deal with it.” He looked around like he was expecting them to either disagree or start teasing him.

 

“Well, yeah,” Peter leaned forward earnestly. “If we find people that are being tortured and experimented on we’re going to rescue them. We’d totally be dicks if we didn’t.”

 

“I would not leave children of any species in such a situation,” Drax agreed, “Though I think there would be other options besides us raising them ourselves.”

 

“I am groot.”

 

Rocket’s lips curled in a half smile. “Lylla would _not_ appreciate that.”

 

“I am groot!”

 

“Yeah, okay, her boss _is_ a bleeding heart type.”

 

“Is this on topic?” Gamora asked. Her light tone made the question a nudge instead of a nag.

 

Rocket sighed. “Just, you know, if there aren’t _any other options_ I’d want to help a little monster get some kind of head start on the universe.” He looked at Drax. “Your turn.”

 

Drax’s hands were flat on the table and he met everyone’s eyes. Gamora was struck by the difference between this and the hunched over, arms-crossed posture he displayed during so many team meetings.

 

“I loved being a father,” he said quietly, “but I do not think I will be ready to be a father again any time soon. I might someday, but, like Gamora, my truest answer is _not now_. I have a contraceptive implant as well, though it is due to be renewed this year. I did not foresee that I might have use for it when we were being treated after the battle of Xandar.” He looked around the table again and smiled. “You are too strange for me to predict.”

 

Gamora smiled back, concealing her surprise at Drax deliberately lightening the mood. Was this more like how he had been before his family died, or was it Peter’s influence?

 

“That would be a great segue into talking about the sex stuff,” Peter pointed out, “buuuut that’s a lot of sharing and emotions for one morning. Can we handle it?”

 

Rocket sighed loudly. Groot patted his arm and said “I am groot,” in a comforting and encouraging tone.

 

“Might as well get it over with,” Rocket mumbled at the tabletop.

 

Gamora laughed a brief, shaky laugh. “Seconded.”

 

Drax was wearing his “ _you are all ridiculous, nonsensical foreigners, but I care about you anyway_ ” expression. “I will go first. I am pansexual. I enjoy having a sexual relationship with my romantic partners, but I do not require it. Hovat and I had sexual partners outside of our marriage, both separately and together, with mutual approval. That worked very well. I think a similar arrangement could work for us, but given how much we travel and how little opportunity we have to build trust with people outside of the team I also think in-group sexual fidelity might be sensible. I expect this subject will require much discussion.”

 

Peter looked as if he were holding in a million questions, eyes wide and lips pursed. He glanced around, and when no one else volunteered to go next he started speaking. “Okay. I’m pansexual. Most of my sexual activity has been outside of relationships, unless you count, um, kinda recurring one night stands? I’ve never been jealous or possessive over people, and I like adventure and want everyone to have opportunity for adventure, so I’d rather not be monogamous, or restricted to in-group, or however you call it. I am aware of the safety benefits of not sleeping with people you don’t know, though. That seems workable as long as I could still flirt with strangers.”

 

“Flirt with them all you want,” Rocket huffed. “It’s the getting naked and unarmed with them part that I don’t like.”

 

“Does it really worry you?” Peter asked. He was facing Rocket, but his gaze swept across all of them.

 

“Yes!” Gamora said, almost in unison with Drax. Groot nodded.

 

“Yeah, actually, it does,” Rocket said aggressively.

 

“I just want to point out that most of the universe does not, in fact, want to kill me. But I actually have been thinking about stopping the one nighters. I’m getting kind of paranoid about them now too.” He scratched his beard and shrugged. “To be honest,  I haven’t had that many since Xandar anyway.”

 

He took a deep breath. “And just to put this out there, I’m attracted to all of you, but I didn’t want to make things more awkward than they already were in the beginning, and there’s no privacy on a ship like this, and I didn’t want to make a mistake and be the guy who ruined this whole team sticking together thing with my libido. So. There’s that.” He made a small gesture as though he was letting something spill from his hands to the table, then sat back in his chair.

 

“Ah.” Groot gestured to the main screen, where they had again displayed their answer as text. Rocket sighed and looked at the table. Groot had organised their thoughts into a carefully worded essay that started by stating that Flora Colossi’s reproductive drives were entirely separate from their social needs, and that, though Groot thought it was not an exact translation, they accepted the label “asexual” for ease of communication. They went on to describe their need for, and enjoyment of, social touch and intimacy, including acts which may be sexual to participants of other species. No names were named, but it was clear from the way that Rocket was avoiding eye contact that he was the participant of other species.

 

After everyone had time to read and Groot blanked the main screen Rocket grumbled “Guess I gotta explain my deal now…” He sat up straighter. “The deal is, I never just look at someone and think ‘I wanna do that.’ They could be real good looking, and smell great, it just doesn't matter. Until I get to know someone, and, y’know, trust them. Then I might want to do that. But before Xandar the list of people I trusted was two people long, now it’s five people. Suddenly I’ve got a ship full of people I’m actually comfortable touching. I’m still figuring stuff out and it’s all pretty weird.” He crossed his arms and looked put-upon.

 

“Huh,” said Peter, “Like going through puberty but with your emotions and not your glands.”

 

“If you say so. As far as I know I never went through puberty,” Rocket replied.

 

Peter again looked full of questions, but he didn’t continue his exchange with Rocket. He looked at Gamora and gestured encouragingly.

 

“I’m like Rocket in that I don’t have much experience. Having the time and freedom to even think about my own desires is new. Sometimes I’m surprised by the things I want. I care about all of you. I feel safer with you than I thought I could feel with other people, and I want to share some of this learning about myself process with you, if you want to be a part of it.” She laughed, bitter for the years she’d lost and sweet for the future she was making for herself. “And I mean so much more than sex-- new fruits on every world.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This version of Rocket and Groot's relationship is highly influenced by "A Good Team," by Thorinsmut


	9. Nine

This shaking keeps me steady. -- Theodore Roethke, “The Waking”

 

Rocket smiled at Gamora. He felt so proud of her… or maybe proud on her behalf would be a better way of putting it. She had stolen herself from Thanos as surely as he had stolen himself from the scientists of Halfworld. He was glad he’d been there to see it, even if he hadn’t realized what was going on at first. He was also glad to hear that she really felt free, at least some of the time. The thing about stealing yourself was the job was never over. You were on the run with the goods as long as you managed to live. 

 

Did Peter feel like he’d stolen himself from the Ravegers? Rocket didn’t think so; it seemed like Peter’s break from them had been more gradual, like a regular person growing up and becoming distant from parents they didn’t agree with. Peter definitely treated his conflict with Yondu as a family fight, rather than taking it as seriously as he should. At least he’d agreed to stop going off alone with  _ strangers _ like a d’ast idiot. Peter looked happy as anything at the idea that he would be allowed to introduce Gamora to new forms of hedonism… not that Rocket had room to talk, since he pretty much felt the same way, except replace “hedonism” with “food and weapons.” 

 

Peter met his gaze. “I hope this wasn’t as mortifyingly horrible as you were expecting.” 

 

“No, not as bad as I was expecting,” Rocket conceded.

 

“That’s good, because Drax is right: we  _ are _ going to have to talk about this more.”

 

Rocket covered his eyes with his hand. “I get why, but… ugh.”

 

“Come on,” he could hear the smile in Peter’s voice, “talking about sex can be fun.”

 

“I’d say I don’t believe you, but then you’d just try and prove it to me.”

 

Peter gave Rocket’s shoulder a friendly squeeze. “Someday, man. But I think we’ve done enough for one morning.” 

 

Peter stood up and Rocket took his hand away from his eyes.  He determinedly did not look at where Peter’s shirt had ridden up. He had weapons to design and jobs to find and plan, he did not have time to think about how much he wanted to touch that sliver of pale, hair-speckled belly (except he had plenty of time, because the hardest part of long range space travel was filling up the days between stops). If Peter noticed him not-looking he didn’t let on, just pulled down his shirt and announced “I’m going to make some lunch.”

 

“I’ll help you.” Gamora stood and took a couple steps toward the galley. “You can explain why you wanted to save the stale bread instead of putting it in the recycler.”

 

Groot gently bumped their arm against Rocket’s shoulder. “I am groot.” 

 

Rocket bumped back. “Sure, let me know if there are any good articles.”

 

“Mmm.” Groot settled down under their sun lamp with a tablet. 

 

_ I really need to put together a new grow box _ , Rocket thought,  _ one that’s gonna work for them when they’re full grown. I bet I could do something with emergency blankets… or reflective hull paint! Just have to find a scrap yard with a gallon or two they’d let go for cheap _ …

 

Rocket’s thoughts were interrupted by Drax moving to the chair closest to him. “My friend, who is the other person you trusted before joining this team, besides Groot? Or did you mean yourself?”

 

“The other one is Lylla.” He forced himself past his reluctance to give out personal information. “She’s actually the first friend I had. We escaped the labs together. We should visit her some time so I can introduce you for real. She wants to meet all of you, but she’s cautious about doing anything over the communicator, doesn’t like to put her face on it.”

 

“Is that why you never speak of anything important on your calls?” Rocket made his calls through his tablet, not the main screen, but there still wasn’t anything like enough privacy to keep them secret. 

 

“Yeah. The calls are just to let her know me and Groot are alive. If there’s anything real important I send it in an encrypted data burst.”

 

“I would like to meet her. Have you told her about our engagement?”   

 

“Not yet. I’ve been waiting til we get closer to a major communication node. Probably tomorrow. We’ll be near the Khaba Prime Station.”

 

Drax nodded. “I have not contacted any of my friends left on Levavas. The Kree destroyed much of our communication network, and there can be a very long wait to connect personal calls.” He shifted slightly, glancing away and back. “Also, remarriage after being widowed and marriage to outsiders are both uncommon; I do not know what they might think.”

 

“So if your old friends tell you that you’re some kind of pervert sinner, will you change your mind?” Rocket tried to keep his tone light, but didn’t quite manage it.

 

Drax shook his head. “No, my friend. Their lack of understanding and approval would hurt, but this is my home now, and I want to be bound to all of you.”

 

He stood and rested a hand on Rocket’s shoulder. “I am glad that you trust me. I value your trust highly, and I trust you as well.”

 

“Thanks… that means a lot.” And the thing of it was, it really did.

 

***

 

In the galley Peter was grating pieces of stale bread into crumbs. “When I was a kid I was surprised at how many different times meatballs and meatloaf had been invented across the galaxy, but now I know it makes perfect sense. Wherever meat is a high value food there are going to be poor people who want to make it stretch farther. Here, you do this, I’ll get the spices.” He handed the grater to Gamora and sidled around her to reach the spice cupboard. 

 

Gamora copied Peter’s technique with the grater, careful to keep her fingertips and knuckles away from the cutting edges. She watched Peter measure spoonfuls of different herbs and spices into a large bowl. “That looks like a lot.”

 

He nodded. “Mm-hm. Bread and ground meat are pretty bland, so you have to use a lot of spices.” He added some small cubes of yellow tubers left over from last night’s dinner, and the pile of breadcrumbs, then mixed them together while Gamora finished grating the last of the bread. Then he added the ground meat  and an egg substitute and instructed her to add the remaining breadcrumbs while he thoroughly sanitized his hands. He stuck his hands right into the bowl and began to mix the meat, crumbs, and tubers together with his fingers. “On the Eclector we did this part with a big mixer, but we were making enough to feed fifty people.”

 

She watched him silently for a moment, then looked back to the common area. Drax was elsewhere (probably doing his meditation/exercise routine in the cargo bay), and Rocket and Groot were both busy with their tablets.  

 

“Have you been falling asleep on Drax because you like it, or because you think he does?” she asked in a voice that wouldn’t carry much past the galley.

 

“Well I can’t say I don’t like it, but I’m doing it to make sure he knows he’s not alone.” He jerked his chin toward the sanitizer spigot. “Scrub up, you’re going to help me make this into balls.”

 

She did as instructed. “Do you think it makes that much of a difference to him while he’s asleep?”

 

Peter nodded. “Yeah, he’s one of those people who thinks mostly with his body. So touch is going to get through to him in a different way than words… even more than it does for everyone.”

 

She stared at him. “I know the dumb scavenger act is just the surface, but you still surprise me Peter Quill.”

 

He looked at her then back down at the bowl. He quickly shaped a meat lump into a ball and showed it to her. “About this size, then put them into the baking pan with at least an inch between them.” She mimicked him, and after they had formed a few meatballs each he began speaking again, too quietly to be heard if she wasn’t standing right next to him. “Groot thinks with their whole body so well I don’t think they have a difference between thinking with their head and thinking with their body. Rocket thinks with his head and his body, but  _ a lot _ with his hands. That’s why he’s always touching stuff. He trusts things he takes more than things he’s given, and that’s why he’ll climb you like a ladder, but won’t ask for a hug.”

 

Peter looked studiously at the bowl, at his hands, but not at her. He worked efficiently and the bowl was almost empty. “You trust things you offer more than things that are offered to you, and that’s why you’ll reach out to touch us, but have this moment where you have to analyze it if we touch you first.” Her hands stilled and his voice got even quieter. “You think with your head, except when you’re fighting. That’s when you’re most comfortable with your body. That’s why you have such mixed feelings about combat, because it feels really good, but you’re trying to develop a moral compass that says violence shouldn’t be a first resort.”

 

Gamora turned away from him and washed and sanitized her hands. She looked at the bulkhead for the space of three carefully measured breaths and tried to convince herself that it was a good thing that someone she planned to marry had such an insightful perception of her. 

 

Peter put the last meatball in the baking pan and washed his hands as well. He put the pan in the oven and set the timer, then stood next to her-- not touching, but close enough that she could feel his body heat. “You should dance. You could think with your body, but doing something that doesn’t hurt people.”

 

“What about you? Do you think with your head or with your body?”

 

“With my body mostly.” He laughed. “Or I think by talking… or by feeling, kind of. Figuring people out hardly seems like thinking at all.”

 

She leaned against his side and squeezed his hand. “Dancing is a good suggestion. I’ll let you teach me to dance in honor of Kevin Bacon.” 


	10. Ten

 

Groot and Peter were supposed to be monitoring the autopilot, but probably they were having a tiny dance party. Rocket could hear a broadcast of Krylorian pop hits from two generations ago as he climbed the steps to the cockpit. They tended toward the melodramatic, but Rocket preferred that to the unrelentingly happy love songs that the Krylorian mainstream was pumping out now.  Sure enough, Peter and Groot were both standing in the little open space at the back of the cockpit, bobbing up and down and waving their arms. 

 

“Hey, I’m sending a message to Lylla. You want to add anything?”

 

“I am groot?” Groot reached for the tablet that Rocket was offering. They quickly read the letter and began typing. Peter politely did not read over Groot’s shoulder, but kept bobbing along to the beat of the music. 

 

Rocket asked me to remind him to make it clear that he was completely sober when the proposal was made and accepted. We will invite you to the binding celebration as soon as we know where and when it will happen. I think we have found a way to keep moving and have a home at the same time. --Groot

 

Rocket encrypted the letter and sent it through the Khaba Prime communication node. Lylla’s reply was waiting for them in the Arkona 2 sat-com system when the Milano docked to meet their contact. Rocket decided to wait until after they got paid to retrieve the message. Business before pleasure. Also, he didn’t expect getting paid to take very long. It was amazing how reluctant clients were to dick over a daughter of Thanos, even if she was publicly known to be reformed. If Rocket and Groot had taken this job before the team formed they probably would have had to wave some guns around, or at least imply that they would, to make sure all their units were handed over. But with Gamora along there was no fuss. Clients just politely paid whatever they’d agreed to. 

 

When he downloaded Lylla’s reply Rocket saw that it wasn’t a written message as he had been expecting, but an audio recording titled “Don’t hide, press play.” Rocket glanced around the common area. Groot was hovering over his shoulder, eagerly waiting to hear what Lylla had to say. Peter and Gamora were teasing each other about what they would buy with their cuts. Drax was polishing his knives and pretending that he wasn’t listening to Peter and Gamora, but Rocket could see his eye-crinkles deepen as he smiled down at the table. What the hell. If Lylla wanted to be heard, he wouldn’t say no. 

 

He pressed play.

 

There was a slight crackle, then Lylla’s rough, low voice poured out of Rocket’s tablet:  “You’re shitting me, Rocket. You go from barely admitting you  _ like _ these people to “Well, I’m gonna marry ‘em.” That’s so krutaking  _ you _ I don’t even have words.”

 

Everyone looked at him and Groot, and he could tell that Groot was silently laughing. Lylla’s Rocket impression  _ was _ pretty good. The exasperated fondness in her voice warmed him more than he wanted to admit. Based on the file’s timestamp he guessed that she recorded it right after reading his message. He pictured her pacing three steps right, then three steps left in front of her computer, her sleek tail swinging as she turned.

 

“Come for a visit so I can meet your fiances  _ before _ you get married. Groot can enjoy some nice, healthy dirt and sunshine, Peter and Drax can show off their cooking skills. It’ll be fun. I’ll pick out some good crustaceans. Groot, thank you for remembering to actually  _ invite _ me to the wedding. Congratulations. You watch each other’s backs out there.”

 

It was just a slight change from her usual “you two watch each other’s backs out there,” but Rocket had a feeling it was on purpose. 

 

“Was that your secret pen-pal?” Peter asked.

 

“If she was secret, then you wouldn’t know about her,” Rocket pointed out. “Because I know how to keep secrets.”

 

“But that was Lylla?” Gamora asked, before Peter could retort.

 

“Yeah.” Rocket set his tablet down and ran his thumb along the edge of the table. “So, you want to visit? She lives on Lothin. It’s a Dwarf colony, but it’s not  quite the ass-end of nowhere.”

 

Peter looked surprised. “Really? I didn’t know any of the Asgardian client races had colonies outside of the Yggdrasil realms.” 

 

“Yeah, the Dwarves will actually travel in  _ ships _ , instead of just  _ breaking space _ when they want to go somewhere.”

 

“I am groot!” Groot said, and gestured towards the engine compartment. “ _ I _ am groot.”

 

“Sure, if you want to get crazy astrophysicist philosophical you could say hyper drives break space,” Rocket countered, “But that’s not the same as launching people into a wacky, ancient, somehow stable-yet-moveable created wormhole every time you want to take a trip. That stuff is nuts.” 

 

“Is Lylla a Dwarf?” Peter asked before Groot could once again tell him more than he wanted to know about the mind-bending theories behind hyperdrive mechanics.  

 

“Nah. Lothin has a pretty generous immigration policy for refugees, so there’s all kinds there. Well, all kinds of people who  _ aren’ _ t from peaceful, prosperous worlds. Anyway... She came from the same place I did. There’s only one of her too.”

 

“I would like to visit,” Drax said, bringing the conversation back on topic.

 

Peter nodded agreement. “Sure.” His tone was pleasant and casual, but his eyes were doing that “I’m searching your heart for your hopes and dreams” thing. Peter’s version was even more intense than Groot’s. Rocket broke eye-contact and looked toward Gamora, who had a map pulled up on the big screen.

 

“We could definitely manage a visit, but it would be helpful if we could find a job on the way,” she said.

 

Rocket scratched his ear thoughtfully. “There’s usually bounties. Not always really lucrative ones though. I avoid working in that area; I don’t want the authorities thinking Lylla’s connected to anything if I get in legal trouble. ... but I guess we’re all legit now.”

 

Groot glanced meaningfully at the map. “I am groooot.”

 

Rocket waved dismissively. “We just won’t go to Brachus. It’s a trash heap anyway. And that game was rigged.”


	11. Eleven

 

They ended up staying on Arkona 2 longer than expected, in order to give Drax a chance to call a friend on Levavas. It had become painfully obvious that they needed a contract mediator to help them translate everything to Levavathi, and Drax wasn’t kidding about how hard it was to get calls through to his homeworld. He didn’t even reach anyone he knew the first day; his place in the call queue kept getting bumped for higher priority communications until he gave up in frustration.  

 

Gamora and Rocket watched him stomp out of the common area, and listened to his steps until he exited the ship. “Levavas only has eight satellites that can link to the nearest galactic communication node,” Gamora said with a sigh. 

 

“Drax told me that Ronan trashed their communications network, but I didn’t realize it would be this bad. It would be quicker to just go there.”

 

Gamora laughed. “Not unless we’re very unlucky. But if Drax truly wanted to go this would be a perfect excuse. He hasn’t suggested it, so I don’t think he’s quite ready to return to his homeworld.” 

 

“He helped save the galaxy, you’d think they’d let him put a flarking call through!” Rocket had been sorting through a box of spare parts while pretending not to watch the Xandarian historical drama Gamora had going on her tablet, and he curbed his desire to hurl a corroded stem-bolt across the room for emphasis. He would only have to pick it up again eventually, and what if Groot stepped on it? They claimed that their feet had toughened up, but their bark still seemed awfully thin in places. 

 

Peter wandered in and slouched in the chair opposite Rocket. “No luck on the coms?” 

 

Gamora and Rocket shook their heads. “Damn. Maybe we can convince someone to let us use a diplomatic channel… Do you want me to go after him?”

 

Gamora looked unsure, but Rocket said “No. Let him be mad away from the ship for a while. He’ll be back when he’s walked it off or whatever.”  

 

“Did he take his personal communicator?”

 

“Yes,” Gamora said. “I am certain that he picked it up before he left. It had been here.” She tapped the table where Drax had left a plate with a paring knife and fruit peels. 

 

“Okay. If he gets in trouble he can always call us.” Peter put the dishes in the sink and the peels in the recycler. Drax had habituated him to cleaning up with constant pleases and thanks-yous and I-appreciate-your-works. Part of Rocket hadn’t really believed that Drax had ever had a regular life until he watched him gently coaxing Peter into doing chores. Drax had done it with Groot too, though that was more about teaching them how kitchens worked. It was like some kind of weird state-dependent social skill where the trigger was caring about someone smaller or less mature than himself. 

 

Peter leaned on the back of Gamora’s chair. “Destiny of the Citadel! This is the best episode.”

 

Gamora briefly tilted her head back to look at Peter. “You follow historical dramas?”

 

“Hey, history is just stories about people, and people are interesting.” He pointed at the screen. “Also, those two are going to get naked in about seven minutes.”

 

“Really?” Rocket asked “But they’re the side characters; why would the writers bother?” So much for pretending not to watch.

 

“Their affection for each other is quite famous,” Gamora remarked, “The audience would be expecting  _ something _ .”

 

“Yeah,” Peter agreed, “It’s historical fact that Nagan Denaris and Thorn Garand were head over heels for each other and totally wild in the sack.”

 

“What kind of history texts have you been reading?” Gamora sounded somewhere between impressed and affronted. 

 

“Spent a weekend with a  _ really _ fun history major once. Apparently their diaries are quite well preserved.”

 

Gamora laughed and then settled down into her “all conversation will cease until this scene is over” pose. Rocket watched the screen  _ and _ Gamora and sorted parts by touch. The naked scene faded out not long after bodies hit the sheets, but there was some pretty impressive innuendo beforehand. Gamora’s gaze was riveted to the screen and she looked almost disappointed when it ended. 

 

“That was something, huh?” Peter asked.

 

“The actors seemed to be enjoying themselves,” Gamora replied noncommittally. 

 

“Eh.” Rocket shrugged. Gamora’s reaction had been much more interesting to him than what was happening on the screen.

 

Peter just smirked like he knew they were bluffing. 

 

***

 

Gamora interrogated Peter about Xandarian dramas (Peter called them “soap operas,” which she resolved to make him explain later) until Groot returned from their afternoon of people-watching and sunbathing. She broke off her questioning to do a quick internal assessment. 

 

“If it’s late enough to be getting dark we should eat dinner.” After a moment she added “I’m hungry.” 

 

Peter smiled, as he often did when she expressed interest in eating. He seemed to find her mortal weaknesses endearing. “There are some food carts just outside the docks district. Arkona has way better take-out than Xandar.”

 

Gamora recalled the tempting scents she had noticed on their way back from collecting their payment. “I would like that.” She strapped on her bracers and double checked the small blades and lockpicks she kept concealed in them. “The original Arkonan colonists were from Xandarian cultural minorities. That is probably why the food is different.”

 

Peter made a “hm” of acknowledgement and shrugged into his jacket. Rocket was tucking a small pistol into a hidden holster when an incoming call from Drax chimed on the main screen. Groot quickly hit the “accept” button. 

 

“I am not calling because of trouble; I am just checking in,” was the first thing out of Drax’s mouth. There was such an obvious release of tension among the team members on the Milano that Gamora was surprised the ship itself didn’t sigh with relief. “I should return in less than an hour, if I understand the monorail schedule correctly.”

 

“That’s great!” Peter said brightly. “We’re going to get dinner. We’ll have something waiting for you, okay?” 

 

“Thank you,” Drax said. Then, more quietly “I did not want you to be worried.” 

 

Gamora smiled. “We appreciate that,” she said over Rocket’s claims that they weren’t worried at all.  

 

“I will call if I am further delayed,” Drax said, and ended the call. 

By the time Drax returned everyone else was gathered around the table with take-out containers. Peter leaned back in his chair with his food almost resting on his chest. Gamora sat crosslegged with her carton of small fried… things balanced on her lap. Rocket sat on the table and nudged her in the ribs with his foot as, between neat bites of food, he told a complicated and funny story about one of his early jobs. Groot leaned against the back of Gamora’s chair, captivated. Apparently this incident predated their partnership. 

 

They heard the airlock open and close, then Drax’s footsteps approaching the common area. Peter levered himself up.

 

“Hey, welcome back! We found a place that cooks with actual fire!” He gestured towards the carton that was waiting for Drax. He and Peter both enjoyed the flavor that being burned with direct flame imparted to meat and vegetables. Gamora didn’t see the appeal, though she did share Peter’s enthusiasm over having found something that Drax would particularly enjoy.

 

Drax’s eyes widened and he smiled with surprised pleasure. He paused to clasp Rocket and Gamora’s shoulders and Groot gave him a viney hug as he walked around the table to the place set for him.  He opened the carton and inhaled the steam before he even sat down. At the first taste he made a low, rumbling groan that was nearly obscene. 

 

Peter, who had made a similar noise over his own food, watched Drax’s reaction avidly. “Totally going back there,” he sighed.  

 

Rocket blinked and seemed to mentally shake himself before concluding his story. “It was pure luck that the transport was going by right then, but don’t go spreading that around. You tell this to anyone else, I had it all under control the whole time.”

 

“I give you my word,” Gamora said with mock solemnity. 

 

“I am groot.” Groot’s tone was almost an exact match to Gamora’s, and she leaned back and stifled a laugh against their shoulder. 

 

“You’d better!” Rocket grumbled, but he was smiling as well. 

 

Drax continued to eat his meal with obvious enjoyment. Gamora felt a warm sense of... accomplishment? ...at having helped provide it for him. The emotion was so different than what she had felt after successfully completing Thanos’ assignments that she thought there must be another name for it. She should ask Drax. Somewhere in the many specifics of the Levavathi language there would be a word for being happy because you made someone else happy. 

 

When everyone had finished Peter repeated his suggestion that Drax try calling through diplomatic channels. Drax agreed that it would drastically improve his odds against getting bumped down the queue for being low-priority communication.   

 

“I’ll admit I was pretty sure we would have to rescue you from some bar fight, or, I guess, rescue a bar from you… but I’m glad we didn’t have to.” Peter clapped Drax lightly on the arm, and Drax reached up to catch his hand and hold it for a moment. 

 

“I did not go into any bars. I did not want to become intoxicated and do something foolish.” He released Peter’s hand. “At first I was just walking with no particular destination. I must have looked very fearsome; everyone stayed out of my way. Then I wanted to be able to do something useful, and I decided to get my contraceptive implant renewed. If we visit Lylla on our next journey we may not be in Nova space again for a few weeks at least.” 

 

As part of their thank you for saving Xandar the Guardians had been given a limited sort of honorary citizenship, which included access to the free healthcare Nova Empire citizens enjoyed. Drax was probably the only member of the team who would not automatically think that a visit to a medical facility would make a bad day worse. Even Groot, who had no personal experience with protein-based beings’ medical industry, disliked being around doctors because of how much Rocket disliked them. But Drax had no particular negative associations with medics or hospitals and could be very patient when he wasn’t being deliberately delayed or obstructed. 

 

While Rocket and Groot were washing dishes and Peter was putting the Milano into on-planet sleep-cycle mode Drax took Gamora aside. “I want to make sure that you know I am not trying to hint that I wish our relationship was more sexual. I got my implant renewed for my own peace of mind.” 

 

Gamora smiled at him reassuringly. “I know that you don’t hint, and I know that you can wait.”

 

Some tension eased from his shoulders even as he shook his head. “I am not  _ waiting _ . We are developing intimacy together.” He wondered how the Levavathi word which meant “reciprocal emotional access embodied by physical acts” translated for her. 

 

For a fleeting moment Gamora’s expression turned to a thoughtful frown, then she smiled again, widely. “I like that perspective better.”


	12. Twelve

 

The next day Peter called the Xandarian Department of State, and was, after some sweet-talking, transferred to the diplomatic corps. The diplomatic corps then connected them to Xandar’s tiny embassy on Levavas, who connected them to the home of the childhood friend Drax had attempted to call the previous day. The whole process took about an hour and a half. 

 

The person who answered wore an expression of polite neutrality laid over nervous bafflement. They were light blue, with light brown eyes and no visible hair. Thin red lines swooped over the outer sides of their eye sockets, winging over their temples. When they saw Drax they raised their hands in a gesture of surprise and Peter could see sparse red lines on their forearms as well. 

 

“Drax!” they gasped. 

 

Drax inclined his head. “Elna. Is Slar at home?”

 

“Yes. I will get him.” 

 

“Elna is Slar’s wife. I have known Slar since we were infants, and I have known her almost a decade.” Drax explained as Elna crossed the room to a door that was just visible from the com’s camera angle. 

 

Her shouting was barely picked up by the microphone. “Slar! Come here now, Drax is on the communicator.” A pause. “No, on the  _ communicator _ !” 

 

She crossed back into the camera’s focus. “He will be here in a moment.” Her gaze traveled across the entire team and came back to Drax. 

 

Peter was so focussed on Elna that he almost missed Slar’s first appearance. Slar was muscular and shirtless. His skin was a dark gray-green. The markings on his arms were very similar to Drax’s but he had more empty space on his chest than Drax did. He had a red band like a cartoon bandit mask that surrounded his eyes and went across the bridge of his nose, as well as some red marks on his head. He was carrying a blue-green toddler who he passed off to Elna. The toddler’s shorts and t-shirt had a swirly pattern of orange on tan, and they wore red bracelets and anklets, but their skin was un-marked.  Drax seemed surprised to see the kid. 

 

“Is that your child?”

 

“Yes. Tel is seven months old.” Now that he was properly in the camera focus Peter could see that the band across Slar’s eyes was made of many little horizontal dashes, and that he had black ink dots in a vertical line down his chin from his lower lip. His eyes were darker brown than Elna’s, and very worried. “Drax, what are you calling for?” 

 

He looked like he expected to hear something bad. He looked, Peter realized, like someone who thought one of their best friends was calling to say it was time to kill himself. Peter again felt a rush of relief that the team had found a way to meet Drax’s definition of a family.  _ “He’s staying! He’s staying!” _ Peter’s internal voice whispered gratefully. 

 

“My companions asked me to marry them, and I have accepted their proposal. We are in the process of writing our contract.”  Drax said stiffly, braced for disapproval.

 

Slar took a half-step backwards. Both he and Elna looked entirely astonished for a few seconds, then started to smile. “That is wonderful! Drax, that is one of the best things I have ever heard!” Slar said, and started to laugh the kind of laugh where you’re also kind of crying. Elna hugged him. The toddler just looked adorably confused. 

 

Drax’s shoulders sagged as tension drained out of them. “You do not think it is improper?” 

 

Slar got close to the camera so that his head and shoulders filled the screen and he was a little out of focus. He spoke slowly and forcefully. “I do not care, Drax. You are my oldest friend and I do not want you to die. Even if I completely believed I would see you in the next cycle I would not want you to die.” He stepped back to a more normal distance from the camera. “Sibling adoption is becoming common again; did you hear anything about that? The most conservative are against it, but many people just do not want to lose more friends.”

 

“I had not heard about it, but I am glad.”

 

Drax introduced the Guardians and Slar and Elna formally introduced themselves and Tel. Then Elna said “We added Hirak to our marriage three years ago, but he is at work right now.”

 

“What made you change your mind about him being too young?” Drax asked.

 

Slar said “After all the funerals, those eight years did not seem to matter.”

 

Drax chatted for a while with Slar and Elna while the Guardians drifted away from the com to pretend they weren’t listening. Or at least that’s what Peter was doing. There were a few more utterly normal birth/marriage/graduation type updates about people the team didn’t know. It was so weird to think of Drax as having a social network. 

 

Drax described the team’s difficulties with translating their respective languages into Levavathi and asked if Slar and Elna would help them find a contract facilitator who knew how to work with off-worlders. They agreed instantly and  Elna said she already knew a good place to start looking. They exchanged email addresses with Drax (apparently email was the easiest way to get personal communication between Levavas and the galactic network) and then the conversation stumbled to a close in the way conversations do when everyone runs out of things to say, but doesn’t want to say goodbye. 

 

“I am very glad you got a call through, and very, very glad you are building a family,” Slar said eventually. “Now I can look forward to seeing you in person again. May I tell people about this? My mother, if no one else.”

 

Drax nodded. “Yes, you may tell your mother. Tell her that she may tell our parents’ friends at her discretion. Also you may tell my old colleagues from the temple, and anyone from my old neighborhood who would be happy to hear it.”

 

Slar raised a hand toward the camera as if he wished he could touch Drax though the screen. “I know the universe is not safe, but travel safely until we meet again.”

 

Drax raised his hand as well and his lips quirked up in a small smile. “I will avoid unnecessary risks. Farewell.”


	13. Thirteen

 

After the screen cleared Peter put his arm around Drax’s shoulders, something he could only comfortably do when the taller man was seated. “I’m glad I got to meet your friends.” 

 

Drax rested his head against Peter’s arm. “It was good to see them, and to know that they approve of what I am doing. But now I feel…” Drax paused for several seconds and Peter did not interrupt him. Peter had noticed that Drax had a hard time processing any emotion that wasn’t anger or excitement and wanted to give him the space he needed. 

 

“I feel all the distance between us that I have not felt for the past four years.”

 

Peter was sure that there would be more emotional fallout for Drax to work through, but this was a really good start for him.  “Video calls play tricks on your emotions. You  _ just _ saw them, but also you know they’re light-years away.”

 

Drax nodded. Gamora put her arm across his shoulders from the other side. Groot came and stood by Drax’s chair and entwined their fingertwigs with his broad, strong hand. They inched toward Gamora with polite hesitation until she drew them in to lean against her side. Rocket strolled up to the group hug, climbed halfway up Groot, walked across Drax’s lap, and sat on the arm of his chair. He found a way to elbow Peter in the chest, half playfully, half obnoxiously, somewhere in the process. 

 

“Did I miss a meeting invite? Is this the “Cheer Up Drax” hour?” He reached out and stroked Drax’s head with awkward tenderness. Drax blinked as if he somehow hadn’t quite realized the whole team was gathered around him until Rocket spoke. Then he let out a quiet sigh and relaxed into the physical contact. 

 

Peter focussed on the weight of Drax’s head on his arm and tried to relax as well. He told himself that he didn’t need to start talking; he didn’t need to fix anything. It was alright that Drax missed his friends. Missing your friends was normal, and Drax could handle it. He thought of Ahroon, the cook on the Eclector, and how they would say that admitting you were feeling shitty was a step you had to go through on the way to feeling ok again. If that was true for Drax he probably had a lot of admitting he was feeling shitty to catch up on. 

 

After a few minutes Drax stood and gently disentangled himself from everyone with a series of hugs and kisses and caresses. Drax had gotten gradually more touchy-feely since Xandar, and that had ramped up since the engagement. From that and the way Drax talked about physical and sexual intimacy Peter got the impression that Drax had been really cuddly before his family was killed.  Peter was happy to help re-develop that side of Drax’s personality. It seemed to be a sign that Drax felt secure in the team… family… teamfamily,  _ and _ , having a steady supply of physical affection made being celibate  _ much _ less of a downer.

 

“C’mon.” Rocket tugged on Drax’s pant-leg. “I need you to come to the scrapyard with me and Groot. You would not  _ believe _ the things people throw away here.” 

 

“Certainly.” He smiled a little. “Do you just need me to help carry things, or do you anticipate danger?”

 

“Carrying things. Arkona’s so tame,” Rocket scoffed. “Just bring a boot knife. I’m only bringing a stun pistol.” Rocket hurried Drax and Groot out of the Milano, saying things like “perfectly good hardware” and “just needs some refinishing.”

 

“I am groot…” Groot said fondly. They thought Rocket was especially cute when he got excited. Peter had to agree, not that he would say it out loud. 


	14. Fourteen

...dance from ear to ear. -- Theodore Roethke “The Waking”

 

After the door sealed behind Drax, Groot and Rocket Gamora turned toward Peter. “It feels significant that Rocket used the phrase “I need you,” even in a doing errands context.” She sat in the chair Drax had vacated, and pulled her legs up. “I’m reading too much into it aren’t I?”

 

Peter shrugged and leaned back against the table. “I’m pretty emotionally invested in the both of you learning to ask for things and admit you have needs, so I’m not the guy to tell you you’re reading too much into it.”

 

She tilted her head to the side and looked at him until the silence almost became awkward. Finally she asked “How do you just… admit things like that out loud so easily?” 

 

“This isn’t easy! I feel like a huge dork. And like I’m daring the universe to come smack me down.” He laughed, somewhat hollowly, and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m doing the cost/benefit calculations just like you, but I’m a little more likely to think that the benefit of saying something out loud outweighs the risk.” 

 

She blinked and stared at him like she had done the other day in the galley. “I thought…” She took a deep breath past the sudden tightness in her throat. “...that it was just me.” 

 

“No.” He shook his head. “Jeeze, no. It’s everyone.” He scooted down the table until he was directly in front of her and held out his hand. She placed her hand in his and was very careful to not grip with all her strength. 

 

His thumb traced slow circles on the back of her hand as he continued talking. “Okay, yeah, normal people don’t think of having living animal needs as a weakness, but no one likes to admit their vulnerabilities. Everyone thinks twice about it. Or five times.”

 

Gamora leaned back a little and looked up at Peter. She met his gaze steadily. “I have a lot more to lose now than I’ve had since I was a little girl… which is wonderful, and also terrifying. I think I should feel  _ less _ vulnerable-- having friends, having people I can trust around me-- but there is more at stake when I take risks.”

 

“Yeah,” Peter agreed, and they both laughed ruefully. 

 

She stretched her legs, stood, and tugged Peter toward a slightly open patch of floor near the stairs to the cockpit. “Teach me to dance!”  

 

Peter smiled a wide, preciously uncalculated smile. “Me and Groot put together a great dancing playlist!” He took a half step back and reached for the computer control panel on the main table, then began swiping through file libraries. 

 

She raised her eyebrows in mild surprise. “Oh? Not just the Awesome Mixes?”

 

“Nah. I figured some variety would help keep your interest. Groot has a thing for fifty year old Krylorian club music, and I like some Xandarian stuff. Their hearing range is the same as Earth humans, so at least I don’t miss any of the sounds. ...Ok. Start.”

 

After a few seconds Gamora recognized the song as one she had heard coming from the cockpit when it was Groot’s turn to pilot. It had a steady beat and lots of low notes she could almost feel thrumming along her skin. 

 

Peter began to sway his hips and torso in time to the music. “You just gotta get your body moving. It doesn’t have to be anything fancy. It can be like… inspired fidgeting.”

 

She tried to emulate him, but felt ridiculously clumsy and constrained. “You’re watching me,” she complained.  

 

“I’ll turn around and you can watch me.” He spun 180 degrees and wiggled his butt. “I like being watched on the dancefloor.”  Gamora laughed and Peter raised his fists in a victory salute.  Maybe she should ask Peter if  _ Terrans _ had a word for being happy because you made someone else happy. 

 

She did watch him a little, mildly impressed at how gracefully he could move his long limbs in the small ship, but mostly she closed her eyes. She swayed her hips and nodded her head in time with the music and enjoyed the feeling of being safely enclosed in the Milano. A memory brushed at the edges of her awareness: bare feet on warm wooden planks, laughter and talking. She pushed the memory away. She wanted to appreciate this moment for itself, and memories usually hurt.


	15. Fifteen

 

By the time Drax, Groot, and Rocket returned from the scrapyard Gamora was stretched out on the bunk next to a sleeping Peter. When the cargo bay door opened and closed Peter quickly woke into a listening stillness and Gamora rose silently to her knees. They both heard Drax’s heavy footsteps and the distinctive strike of Groot's hard feet on the deck. Gamora could faintly hear the clicking of Rocket’s toenails, but she doubted it was loud enough to register on Peter's un-augmented Terran hearing. Gamora sat on her heels and Peter relaxed into his pillow and rubbed his eyes. “Hey,” he called out. 

 

“I am groo-oot,” came the cheerful reply.

 

Gamora scooted off the bunk and stood. 

 

Groot set a few gallons of paint on the deck and retracted the extra vines they had used to keep the load steady. Drax set down a crate and what looked like half a small chair. 

 

“Check this out,” Rocket said happily, “Perfect size! And built tough too, not some bullshit kiddie furniture that’s going to fall apart after a couple months. It just needs a new base!” 

 

“Sweet!” Peter sat up and and looked at their haul. “And that’s the reflective paint you were looking for?” 

 

“Yep.” Rocket traced the rim of the topmost paint can. “I need to get ahold of a sprayer to apply it, and a UV gun to cure it, and then the cargo hold can double as a grow box. Should only take a few days.”

 

“We can rent painting equipment from a repair shop,” Peter pointed out. 

 

“I know! I wasn’t planning on stealing them.” 

 

Gamora tilted her head skeptically. Rocket crossed his arms. “The deal we get on docking fees here will more than cover equipment rental.” He huffed indignantly. “ I did the math!” 

 

“I am groot.” Groot said cheerfully. They had a good sense of timing when it came to re-directing Rocket.

 

“I knew you wouldn’t mind: I’m doing it for you. Plus you like hanging around on planets. Not that this isn’t an okay dirtball as far as they go.” Rocket aimed his tablet’s scanner at the half a chair. Gamora could see a wireframe schematic start to build itself on the transparent screen. 

 

“Does anyone mind staying here for a few more days?” Peter asked. 

 

“No,” Drax said, and Gamora shook her head. 

 

“Great! It’s been months since we’ve had actual down-time on a planet.” Peter was probably thinking of how many times he could go back to the burned-meat food cart before they left Arkona. 

 

“When do I get down-time?” Rocket grumped half-heartedly.

 

“I am groot!” Groot sounded like they were almost laughing. 

 

“I don’t hate downtime,” Rocket protested. “I just hate having nothing to do. There’s a difference.”  


	16. Sixteen

 

The next morning Peter woke up with Drax spooned around him. He could see Gamora’s slender green foot resting on Drax’s calf and could hear her quiet breathing when he listened carefully. Her foot withdrew and then she slowly raised her head above Drax’s shoulder to meet Peter’s eyes. She offered him a wry smile and he smiled back, adding a meaningful glance at Drax and a fond eyeroll. Both Peter and Gamora were still a little amazed at Drax’s ability to sleep through Groot and Rocket’s on-planet morning routine (Amazed and jealous, because it was sometimes obscenely early. Groot always woke at sunrise. Peter wasn't sure if they just somehow  _ knew _ , or if they had to set an alarm.)

 

Gamora rolled to her knees then crawled across Drax and Peter’s legs to sit in front of Peter. She combed her fingers through her hair and frowned her “why didn’t I braid my hair before I went to bed?” frown.  Peter had grown very fond of that frown. He wasn’t sure when that had happened, but probably it was about the time he got used to waking up with someone in the bunk next to his. Drax began to stir as Gamora worked the tangles out of her hair and was fully awake by the time she had it brushed smooth. 

 

Peter tilted his head up to kiss Drax’s jaw and then stood up. “You should check your email.” 

 

Drax rubbed his eyes. “It has not even been a full day since I gave Slar and Elna my contact information.”

 

“Yeah, it’s been  _ almost  _ a full day.” Peter pulled a t-shirt on. “Seriously, I will bet actual units that Slar sent you an email last night.”

 

“It is foolish to gamble against family,” Drax said in that tone that it had taken Peter weeks to realize was joking. He got up and found a tablet. 

 

Drax had four emails. He summarized them between bites of breakfast. “Hirak congratulates us and expresses regret that he was not at home when we called. Slar sent many pictures.” Drax smiled. “That is what I expected of him. Elna passes on congratulations from other friends and relatives and says she hopes to see us in person soon.” 

 

He read the last email more carefully. “This is from Elna as well. It is the resumes of contract mediators who have a reputation for working well with couples and groups from different cultures.” 

 

Drax put the resumes on the main screen. Peter and Gamora looked them over. Gamora pointed at one. “That one has legal translation experience. Tarrad. We should try them first.”

 

Rocket came in and set his customary giant tea mug on the table. “Try who first?” He climbed the side of Drax’s chair and looked at the screen. 

 

“The contract mediator with the most offworlder  experience,” Drax said and handed Rocket a piece of toast. “Elna sent recommendations.” 

 

“I am groot!” Groot followed Rocket in, then picked up Rocket’s mug and put it in the galley sink. 

 

“I guess she wasn’t kidding about having leads already,” Rocket said, confirming Peter’s theory that he hadn’t been the only one eavesdropping on Drax’s conversation with Slar and Elna. 

 

“Can we see the pictures Slar sent you?” Gamora asked hesitantly. 

 

“If you would like.” Drax put them up on the big screen, slide-show style. “Roughly half of them are from the signing and celebration when Slar and Elna married Hirak.”

 

The pictures had that warped quality of holos that had been compressed to two-d, and were full of blue, green, and grey people. Most of the people had raised red scars, like Drax’s marks, but a few had black or maybe dark blue tattoos. The smaller kids were unmarked, and many of the middle-sized and bigger ones seemed to have painted marks. There were formal groupings of people showing off clothes, jewelry, and muscles. (Shirts were apparently optional, and no one seemed to have much in the way of secondary sex characteristics.) There were also charmingly awkward candid shots of people talking, or biting into hors d'oeuvres, or kids making weird faces. The last wedding picture was Slar and Elna, and a much shorter person who Peter guessed was Hirak. They were holding up a large piece of framed calligraphy. 

 

“Is Hirak really short or are Slar and Elna really tall?” Peter asked. Compared to the height difference between Elna and Hirak, the few inches Slar seemed to have on Elna were nothing. 

 

Drax seemed momentarily confused by the question, but then something obviously clicked into place for him. “Oh! You did not know that on Levavas the child-bearers are usually bigger, and seeded individuals are usually smaller. Hirak is… perhaps a few inches shorter than Peter. Very small for a seeded Levavathi.”

 

“Okay, “ Rocket chimed in, “So Levavas isn’t one of those places where your gender and what’s in your pants have a lot to do with one another?” 

 

Drax tilted his head and peered at Rocket. “The contents of one’s pants?”

 

Gamora sighed loudly and looked at the ceiling. “He means genitals. It sounds like the Levavathi don’t believe that gender is linked to the shape of a person’s genitals, right?”

 

“That is correct.” Drax looked like he was surprised it even needed saying.

 

“But you do have gender, right?” Rocket pressed.

 

“Yes,” Drax said. “Most Levavathi cultural groups recognize four genders.”  

 

“So what’s the signifier? It’s not height. None of you seem to have breasts or beards like the humies. If it’s in the clothes I haven’t deciphered it. So what?” 

 

“It is facial markings.” Drax zoomed in on the picture until bottom edge of Hirak’s chin was off the screen. “Slar, Hirak, and myself are all male, and our marks surround our eyes.” Hirak had thick, feathery-textured lines along his eyebrow ridges and shallow crescents of the same texture above his cheekbones. At the outer corners of his eyes the lines blended into rounded points that extended just a little past his temples to the sides of his head. Peter noticed that Slar did not have the black dots on his chin in this picture, they must be more recent. “Elna is female and her marks are only on the outsides of her eye sockets. Sojol have marks on their noses and cheeks, and detav have marks above their eyes.” He paused thoughtfully. “This is the Sobav tradition. Other cultural groups use different kinds of marks. I will find some reference material about it.”

 

“I could use a cheat sheet.” Peter was glad his translator implant had a comprehensive pronoun subroutine. Yondu believed that if you were going to insult someone it should be on purpose. 

 

“I am groot?” Groot waved at the thumbnail pictures on the side of the screen.

 

“Yeah, what about the kids?” Rocket asked. “ Are you not allowed to have a gender until you  reach a certain age?” 

 

“Permanent marks are usually not done until someone is grown, or mostly grown. Many children use temporary marks. Some try out different gender presentations until they find what is most true for them, and some know right away.” Drax looked down at his hands. “Kamaria was very decisive. She identified as female and used painted marks since she was two years old... but sometimes when she wanted to be coddled a bit she would take them off and use neutral pronouns like when she was just a toddler.”   

 

Groot leaned against Drax’s shoulder and took his hand. “I am groot... I-am groot.”

 

“Groot says that, uh, that they appreciate that you talk about your family even though it's hard.” He flicked his ear, and then pulled himself into Drax’s lap and gave him a brief hug before scurrying into another chair. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The terms "child-bearing" and "seeded" instead of assigned gender at birth are borrowed from "Lessons in Dwarven Culture," by Hobbitdragon.


	17. Seventeen

In this way our world was broken and glued. --Dean Young, “To Those of You Alive in the Future”

 

After breakfast Peter and Drax drafted an email to Tarrad with a brief description of the teamfamily and their needs, to see if the mediator felt up to the challenge. A picture accompanied the resume: Tarrad had medium grey skin, pale yellow-green eyes, and columns of irregular diamond shapes like a beaded curtain down their cheeks and nose. 

 

“They’re sojol?” Peter asked. Drax nodded. “Okay. Double check the translation before we send this out. The computer isn’t so reliable past ‘male, female, other’ for cultures outside of the major empires.”

 

“Is it possible to improve the program?” Drax asked as he was proofreading. “Any of you may need to write to our contract mediator without involving me.”

 

Peter shrugged. “If there is a Levavathi culture expansion on the market I know enough to install it, but that’s about as far as my programing skill goes. Rocket?”

 

“Me and Gamora could pull something together if we need to.” Gamora was surprisingly good at languages for someone who tended to stab first and ask questions later. 

 

Rocket demanded a lesson in Levavathi pronouns as soon as Drax sent the email. Peter forced himself not to wince, groan, or object. It’s not that he didn’t want to know, or didn’t think it was important, he just hated sit-down lessons. He was 100% not surprised that Rocket wanted to know  _ right now _ . “Improvisation requires preparation,” Rocket had told Peter once. “I didn’t break out of 23 prisons by being the jerk who thinks he can’t get caught. No. I did my research.” So Peter did his best to behave, and fidgeted and mouthed nominative, possessive, and reflexive cases under his breath. 

 

Tarrad’s reply arrived as Drax and Rocket were searching the spacenet for infographics about Levavathi gender and marks. Se wrote that se wanted to speak with the teamfamily in real time before deciding whether to take on their case and gave them a calling code that supposedly would give their call the highest civilian priority.

 

“I am groot?” Groot gave the email on the main screen a confused and skeptical look. 

 

“Why are ser calls such high priority?” Rocket asked. 

 

Drax seemed surprised by their suspicion. “Contract mediators are mental health professionals as much as they are law professionals. Medicine has very high priority. I believe se is assigning our case more urgency than it truly has, but I will not object to that.”

 

Peter chewed his tongue for a moment, then said “No, Drax, I think that se’s giving your,  _ our _ , mental health situation all the urgency it deserves.”

 

Drax looked caught, like he didn’t know what to think. Gamora nodded agreement with Peter. Rocket glared at him. Groot looked concerned, which probably had more to do with Rocket’s reaction than what Peter said.

 

“I’m  _ fine _ ,” Rocket said coldly, almost a snarl. Then, “ _ We’re _ doing  _ fine _ .” His tail still curled casually by his leg, but the fur was bristled out just a little. 

 

“We’re doing okay.” Peter spread his hands, gesturing to the whole group at once. “We’re stumbling through on a combination of luck, good intentions, and will to survive. I’m not knocking it; it got us this far. ...but don’t you want  _ more _ ?” Rocket’s glare softened the tiniest bit. “You trust us, and that’s  _ great _ , but you don’t  _ like _ that you trust us because it kind of scares the crap out of you. It kind of scares the crap out of me too. I’m used to being scared, but I don’t want to be scared forever.”

 

“Me too.” Gamora said. “I don’t want to be scared forever. I’d like for us to be able to argue without feeling like it’s life or death. We deserve that.”

 

Groot smoothed down the fur on Rocket’s arm. “I am groot,” they said in a soft, earnest tone.

 

“That’s not playing fair.” Rocket half-heartedly shoved at Groot. “You don’t have to bring that up.” He sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face. “Okay. We all have issues. Just don’t expect me to  _ unburden my soul _ to some stranger. Not when I’m sober anyway.”

 

Peter grinned. “If you did, I’d wonder if you’d been replaced with a Skrull.”

“Just because this is better than what we’ve had in the past, doesn’t mean we don’t deserve more.” Gamora spoke quietly but forcefully. Peter marvelled, not for the first time, at how her years under Thanos hadn’t killed her ability to believe in the possibility of change. Then he firmly re-directed himself away from thinking about how none of them would actually be there if it wasn’t for Gamora’s belief that she could get away from Thanos. He didn’t need to scare the bejesus out of himself with might-have-beens.

 

“But this is pretty good,” Rocket said, almost too quietly to hear.

 

“It is good.” Drax found his voice at last. “This is better than anything I thought I would have after Hovat and Kamaria died. But Peter and Gamora are right: it can be better than this. I believe our lives will get better.” 

 

Rocket looked up at Drax. “We can’t have regular people lives, Drax. You can’t go back to what you had before. You know that, right?”

 

Drax nodded. “I know. Time moves only forward. I believe that more healing is possible for me. And though I do not truly understand the injuries that were done to you in your early life, I believe that more healing is possible for you.”

 

Rocket looked down at his lap and squeezed his eyes shut. “Don’t…” He took a shaky breath. “Don’t make me deal with feelings like this in the middle of the day. I’ve got work to do.”

 

“I am groot.” Groot’s tone was almost playful as they put their arm around Rocket and pulled him close. 

 

Rocket laughed, just a little. “Sure. I can catch up on sleep any time.”Rocket leaned against Groot for another moment or two, until his breath was totally under control; then he pulled away and tugged the wrinkles out of his flight suit. “Ok. Let’s make this call, then I can go back to ignoring my feelings while we wash the cargo bay.”

 

“We have to wash it?” Peter whined.

 

“The paint won’t stick right if we don’t degrease the bulkheads. Quit whining Quill. The Milano  isn’t a superliner; it won’t even take an hour.”    


	18. Eighteen

 

Drax placed the call to Tarrad’s office, using the code they had been given. The call was connected after a six minute wait, and  a receptionist answered. 

“You have reached the offices of Mediators Zutha, Tarrad, Gijahen, and Nor. How may I help you?” 

 

The receptionist had hazel eyes, blue-gray skin somewhat darker than his own, and the blue ink chevrons that marked detav from the Chatis Islands. Drax suspected that ve recognized him from the way vir eyes widened, but vir voice remained calm and professional. 

 

“I am Drax the Destroyer. My fiances and I would like to speak with Mediator Tarrad.” 

 

Drax was momentarily flustered as he realized this was the first time he had spoken the words “my fiances” out loud. Peter covered his pause. “We don’t have a specific appointment, but Mediator Tarrad asked us to call ser.”

 

“I will make sure the Mediator is available,” the receptionist said, and put them on hold. 

 

After a reasonable wait the hold screen’s calming animation resolved into the face of Mediator Tarrad. Momentarily, Drax wished to have Peter’s perceptive skill so that he could see more than the bland politeness in the mediator’s face. He wanted to know what someone with no personal interest in his wellbeing would think of his soon-to-be family. Levavathi had married outsiders before, but most commonly Iatheans, their nearest galactic neighbors. He had never heard of a family like the one the Guardians were creating.  

 

The mediator sat at an uncluttered desk. Drax could see a shelf of memory crystals behind ser and the numerous oval leaves of a large potted biloxol vine covered half the wall on ser left side. “Thank you for calling so quickly,” Tarrad said. “I am very curious about the possibility of working with you. I am Tarrad. Please introduce yourselves.” 

 

Everyone said their names, Peter adding “Star-Lord” to his. Rocket briefly explained Groot’s communication difficulties. Tarrad focussed on Rocket and Groot. “Do you understand them because you have a superior sense of hearing, or do you have some kind of empathic bond?”

 

“I’ve got the most practice.” Rocket replied.

 

“Groot, do you feel that having Rocket translate for you is a satisfactory solution?” Tarrad asked.

 

Groot nodded. “I am groot.” They gestured toward a tablet lying on the main table.

 

“They can write just fine when things get complicated.” Rocket clarified. 

 

“Then it is satisfactory to me as well.” Tarrad sat back a little, and regarded the whole group again. “Please tell me more about what you need from me as a mediator. Your email mentioned difficulty with translation, and I believe I can help with that, but I might not be the best fit for your other needs.”

 

“What else would we need?” Rocket asked suspiciously. 

 

“Do you have difficulty communicating with each other, or dealing with conflicts? Are you confident in your understanding of your own goals, desires, and boundaries?” 

 

Everyone glanced at each other, but no one wanted to speak first. Finally Gamora said “Our conflict resolution skills could use some work.”

 

“Hey, no one’s punched a team-mate since Knowwhere.” Rocket countered. 

 

Gamora sighed. “That’s the bare minimum of functional behavior in polite society. I hope to any gods we can do better.”

 

Rocket crossed his arms over his chest. “Since when are we members of polite society?”

 

Groot put a hand on Rocket’s shoulder. “I am groot.” They gestured towards Peter, and then towards the rest of the team. “I aam grooot.” 

 

Rocket looked down and uncrossed his arms. “Okay, you’re right. Sorry for derailing. And it’s not fair to make Peter referee all the fights.” He took a stylus from one of his pockets and rolled it between his fingers. “We could maybe use some tips on how to argue with people you actually like.”

 

“Can I infer from your remark about practice that you have known Groot for longer than the rest of the group has?” Tarrad asked.

 

“Yeah,” Rocket said. “Me and Groot were together for a few years before we met everyone else.” 

 

Drax wondered how that “together” translated for Tarrad. His own translator rendered it as an incomplete root-fragment that could be modified to mean close, sibling-like friendship, friendship-based marriage, or the bond between fighters in the same unit. He thought that the second form would be most accurate in this case, but Rocket had probably intended to communicate the third form. Most Levavathi translator implants would default to root-fragments when translating vague offworlder terms, but he had heard rumors of more expensive versions with better programming. 

 

“How did you handle conflict between you before you met the others?”

 

Rocket passed his stylus from one hand to the other and back again. “Usually it was just a communication problem, and we had to talk it out. Or yell, sometimes. If it was something important they were usually right, and they’d give me the big eyes and wait for me to cave... uh, to relent.”

 

“Is it different with the larger group?”

 

“Well none of the rest of us are as easy to get along with as Groot.” Peter let out a brief quiet laugh, and Gamora grinned. “We yell a lot more,” Rocket continued, “but no one’s said anything totally unforgivable.”

 

“Good,” Tarrad said thoughtfully. “Being careful with your words is an important skill that can be improved upon. Do you rely upon Peter to facilitate communication when the group has conflict?”

 

“Yes, because he has the best social skills,” Gamora said, “and the most experience working in groups.”

 

Peter smiled at the praise. “Thanks Gamora. But sometimes I run out of patience, and then it’s bad.”

 

Tarrad nodded. “Do you like taking on this role in the group?”

 

“Well... “ Peter ran his fingers through his hair and glanced around the room. “I like that they  _ let _ me do it. That’s way better than trying to calm situations down when people  _ want _ to escalate.  _ Way _ better.” 

 

Gamora squeezed Peter’s hand. “Drax says that regular people know how to argue respectfully. Can you teach us how to do that?”

 

“I can help you improve your communication skills,” Tarrad said, “But if your life has been so lacking in positive relationship models that you have never witnessed a respectful argument you would benefit from also getting counseling beyond the scope of contract facilitation and mediation.” After a pause, se continued. “I say that only as advice. I will not make seeking other counsel a condition of working with me. Do you know what you want your contract terms to be, or are you still discussing options?”

 

“We know some,” Peter said, “but there are some things we’re just going to have to figure out as we go along.”

 

Drax spoke next. “My intrapersonal intelligence is poor. I used to work with a counselor for it, but much of my progress has been undone in the years since the Kree attack.  Roughly five months ago I began to do some of my old exercises and tasks to try and regain my skill, but I do not currently have a counselor to advise me. Because of this, and because of some of the others’ specific circumstances, we know we will need to reassess our contract more often than most, and will need a good plan in place for re-negotiation and amendment. Can you work with that style of contract?”

 

Tarrad smiled. “I prefer that, actually. I believe that planned reassessments are wiser than waiting until someone realizes they are unhappy enough to want to amend their contract.”

 

Altogether the team spoke with Tarrad for a little more than an hour. Peter asked questions about the mediation process, then, as if encouraged by his example, Rocket, Gamora and Groot asked questions as well. Tarrad often asked them to rephrase things when they used figurative or vague language, but se did so with no outward sign of impatience. Eventually, Tarrad leaned back in ser chair and regarded the team silently for a moment. 

 

“I do believe that I can help you. Do you feel that you can work with me?” 

 

“Yes, I do.” Drax said quickly. 

 

Groot nodded. “I am groot.” 

 

“Groot says yes, and that you seem pretty good at working with offworlders.” Rocket translated.

 

“Thank you, Groot.” Tarrad said, and smiled at them. Groot smiled in return.

Gamora said “I vote yes. I would really like to start making progress on this soon.”

 

Rocket said “I vote yes too.” 

 

“And I vote yes,” Peter said with a smile. “So, what’s the next step? We send you what we have so far?”

 

Tarrad nodded. “Yes, and I will send you some worksheets to fill out about your communication styles. I know that they are not the most interesting task, but please complete them. Do you have any other questions that I can answer right now?”

 

No one had any, and Tarrad concluded the interview. “Thank you for bringing me this interesting challenge. I sincerely hope that I can help you build a healthy, fulfilling marriage. I will email the worksheets to you within the day, and I look forward to receiving your contract drafts. Farewell.”

 

“Farewell, Mediator.” Drax said, and the call ended.

 

Everyone stood and stretched. Thankfully the team was comfortable enough with physical contact with each other that crowding into the camera focus area had not been unpleasant, but they had been still for a long time. 

 

“Well that was less invasive than I thought it would be,” Rocket said in a relieved tone. 

 

“Yes,” Gamora agreed. “I get the impression that Tarrad won’t ask for any disclosures that aren’t absolutely relevant.” 

 

Peter stretched his arms to either side, spanning most of the width of the main room. Groot mimicked him, then grew their arms out until their arm span matched Peter’s. Peter laughed and Groot enfolded him in a hug, leaning their weight on him and resting their head on his shoulder. Peter returned the hug and swayed gently from side to side.

 

“Okay,” Rocket said, “let’s get the cleaning done, then rent the sprayer and UV gun, then lunch,  then we’ll have time to get a coat of paint up before dinner.”


	19. Nineteen

 

“Peter, what do you think of how Tarrad said we were an interesting challenge?” Rocket asked as he, Drax, Groot and Peter scrubbed the cargo bay. 

 

“I think se meant what se said,” Peter replied. “It’s a new challenge in a job se’ve been doing for years. I think maybe se’s also really into learning about other cultures, but I’d have to talk to ser about it more to be sure.”

 

Rocket moved to a different patch of deck. With Drax taking care of the ceiling, Groot and Peter working on the bulkheads and Rocket on the deck, the cleaning was going as fast as he had predicted. “I was just wondering if it was like a polite euphemism for we’re totally messed up.”

 

“Do Levavathi even use euphemisms?” Peter asked Drax.

 

“We do phrase things gently, when we want to.” Drax said. “Buf no contract mediator would agree to work with a couple or group that they thought could not build a healthy marriage.”  

 

Gamora leaned against the doorway to the main deck. “We can pick up the sprayer and UV gun whenever you’re done with this. Should I help, or is it crowded enough already?”

 

“I am groot.” Groot had grown their arms long enough to reach from the deck to the ceiling and demonstrated that they could clean about an eighth of one bulkhead with a single swipe. 

 

“I’ll take that to mean you’ve got it covered.” Gamora said with a smile.  

 

For a moment Peter wondered why there were four people in the cargo hold when Groot could obviously wash it quickly all by themself, but then suddenly he thought about how much he used to like to help his mom put away dishes or groceries. He had felt proud to be able to help, and she had always acted happy for his help even though she could have probably done the chores just as fast without him underfoot. The really cynical part of him said that little kids were suckers. He told that part to shut the hell up. He enjoyed Groot’s obvious happiness at group or parallel activities. He wanted Drax’s warm, uncomplicated approval. He wanted Gamora to smile at him the way she did when he proved himself to not be a selfish asshole, and he even wanted Rocket’s grudging compliments. That didn’t make him a sucker  _ or _ childish. The part of him that pointed out that Yondu would disagree could shut the hell up too. Yondu wasn’t as stone-cold as he pretended to be. The fact that Peter was still alive was evidence of that. 

 

Peter scrubbed on autopilot while he wondered if it was normal that he found Drax’s den-father tendencies so comforting while at the same time he was seriously looking forward to having sexy fun times with him. Married people took care of each other, right? That was one of the few things that his grandparents’ relationship had in common with the partnerships among the Ravegers, though the practical applications were different. If it was healthy to want caring partners it couldn’t be  _ that _ weird to like the fact that one of them was totally dad material.  He finished the bulkhead he was working on and almost started on the next one before he realized that it was already clean. Groot was helping Drax finish the ceiling, so Peter knelt down and worked on the last couple square feet of deck with Rocket. 

 

Groot and Rocket went to get the painting equipment while Drax, Gamora, and Peter went to pick up lunch from the food carts. They visited the flame-grill cart and Peter pointed out the sign that declared it “Isra’s Original Grill: Arkona’s Most Popular Mobile Historical Site.” 

 

Drax smiled. “My father Rohaka worked at a place like this when my parents were married, and for a few years after. By the time I was born he was an under-chef for a caterer.”

 

Gamora stood companionably close to Drax, leaning into him a little even as she continuously scanned their surroundings for danger. Peter knew that for her this was the equivalent of walking arm in arm. “And the other one, Gorok? …he was a  warrior monk, right?” she asked. 

 

Once, Peter had heard them talking about how they both been trained in martial arts since childhood. Peter got the impression that hearing about Gamora’s life with Thanos had upset Drax, since he hadn’t brought it up again.

 

Now Drax nodded. “Yes. He was a temple acolyte, and then an instructor, and then a master.”

 

They collected Peter and Drax’s food and then went to the place that Rocket liked and Gamora wanted to try. It was somewhat whimsically called “Three Songs,” and their specialty was a mildly spiced paste of crustacean flesh, fruit and nuts wrapped up in a large, edible leaf. There was also a vegetarian option for those who objected to eating things that looked like ten-legged roly-polies. It smelled great (though not  _ quite _ as amazing as Isra’s) and Peter got a small one for himself to try it out.

 

Peter waited until they were most of the way back to the Milano, and away from the food cart crowds, before asking “What was your mom’s name?” He was a little uncomfortable with the fact that he hadn’t asked before but, well, he still had trouble talking about his own mom, and he hadn’t wanted to start the conversation only to have to back out of it. 

 

“Her name was Dera,” Drax said. He looked like he was going to say more, but they had reached the ship. 

 

When they came into the main room Rocket and Groot were already sitting side by side at the table, reading a tablet. Gamora sat down on Rocket’s other side and put the Three Songs carton between them. Peter put the Isra’s cartons on the table and got out silverware for himself and Drax while Drax made a fertilizer and sucrose nutrient drink for Groot. Drax had been feeding the drinks to Groot since they had grown big enough to ingest food as well as photosynthesize. The Milano’s computer held some adorable pictures of tiny Groot drinking from a shot glass with a bit of small-gauge tubing as an improvised straw. 

 

“My mother’s name was Dera,” Drax said again, this time to the whole teamfamily. “She was a pilot and died in a shuttle accident. I believe that she would be somewhat amused that I am living on a spaceship, because previously I did not desire more adventure.” Drax’s smile was a lot loving and a little sad, but a comfortable sort of sadness. He’d had time and support to mourn his mother that he hadn’t had after the Kree attack on Levavas. 

 

“Did you leave your planet at all before you decided to kill Ronan?” Rocket asked. Rocket had issues with the idea  of “home.” He was highly curious about other people’s experience of having a home, but could also get really uncomfortable if the subject was discussed for too long. (Peter wasn’t sure if it was jealousy, or regret, or what, but he usually acted out on his feelings by being a callous jerk or burying himself in busywork and avoiding everyone besides Groot.)

 

“I spent two years offworld as a mercenary when I was a young man, before Hovat and I decided to get married. Slar was going and convinced me to join him. It was a very common way for Levavathi with warrior training to earn money.”  Drax handed Groot a tall glass of nutrient drink and sat down at the table. “Offworlders like the idea of mercenaries who are bad at lying, and many seem to think that Levavathi are decorative. The word  _ exotic _ was often used.”

 

Peter stifled a laugh and everyone looked at him. “I got a lot of action for being an exotic Terran,” he explained, “but it wasn’t fighting.” Gamora rolled her eyes. Rocket made an irritated scoffing sound, and Groot sent him an amused look over the rim of their glass. 

 

Drax peered at him with a momentary look of confusion and then said “Oh! You are referring to sexual encounters, yes?” 

 

Rocket facepalmed and shook his head. Gamora looked bland, but Peter would bet she was masking curiosity. Groot side-eyed Rocket the way they did when they were trying to gauge his mood without being obvious about watching him (it was kind of cute how Groot didn’t realize they were still being super obvious). Peter didn’t want to actually force Rocket beyond his sexual-discussion comfort zone, but he knew that Rocket wouldn’t hesitate to tell him to stop talking if he really wanted to. Rocket resumed eating, but didn’t look up from the table.

 

“Yes,” Peter said. “I was referring to sexual encounters.”

 

Peter sat down and handed Drax a fork. They both opened their Isra’s cartons and took a moment to appreciate the tastiness, but Drax quickly continued the discussion. 

 

“The experienced mercenaries warned new ones about how offworlders would be attracted to us for novelty. I do not mind the idea of sex as an expression of mutual friendly curiosity, but I decided not to have sex with anyone who was just looking for something  _ exotic _ . ...did you not mind that kind of attraction?”

 

“Well, I was mostly taking what I could get when I was younger.” Peter said. “Eventually it started to bother me because I wanted to be known as the dashing, handsome guy who was good at sex, instead of Hey, check this guy out: he looks Xandaran, but he has a really weird dick!”

 

Rocket looked up. “Wow, harsh.” He sounded like he didn’t know whether to be impressed or angry on Peter’s behalf. 

 

Peter nodded. “Yeah.” He could laugh about it now, but it had made for a really shitty night at the time. “So I learned to spot the mutual friendly curiosity types. Encounters were more consistently fun after that.”

 

Groot shook their head. “I am groot,” they said in a tone of mild bafflement. 

 

“I’m a mammal and I still don’t understand it.” Rocket replied. 

 

Drax looked concerned. “You deserve sex partners with better manners, who care more about your pleasure than your appearance,” he said in a tone so earnest that it caught Peter off guard. 

 

Peter swallowed, took a breath, and put a lot of effort into keeping his voice light and steady. “I haven’t put up with that kind of thing in years.” 

 

He kept eating in slow, savoring bites, and he slid his foot over to rest against Drax’s foot. Drax shifted his leg so that his ankle was hooked around Peter’s, and after a moment he began to eat again as well. 


	20. Twenty

 

In the time it had taken for Rocket and Groot to finish turning the cargo bay into a part-time grow room Peter found two courier jobs (supply runs for graduate students doing field research on Lothin) that would help offset the travel costs for their visit to Lylla. Lothin was off the most commonly used routes for the major freight lines, and the Guardians could get there much faster than standard shipping; but, as Peter explained to Drax, the difficulty was finding people with legitimate business who wanted to ship small cargo with an un-bonded carrier. They ignored several job offers that involved contraband because Rocket had (quite rightly, in Drax’s opinion) insisted that the group maintain his policy of keeping crime and visits to Lylla separate. The graduate students were willing to take the risk so their cargo would arrive under-budget and probably ahead of schedule. Also, they would be able to truthfully say the Guardians of the Galaxy carried their replacement parts and memory crystals. 

 

“How did you even find this job? Are broke university students your usual contacts?” Rocket asked.

 

“One or two, yeah.” Peter replied. “Remember that history major I mentioned last week? She’s friends with the anthropologist and the anthropologist knew that the ecologists were also having shipping problems.”

 

“So our fuel to Lothin is paid for because of a two-nighter you had in the unspecified past?” Drax couldn’t tell if Rocket was angry or baffled.

 

Peter shrugged. “That’s how networking works, man.”

 

***

 

“Vessel Milano, we are transmitting your assigned landing course, acknowledge.”

 

“Acknowledged, Keld,” Rocket replied before Peter could say anything, “Just don’t put us near waste reclamation.”

 

“Rocket, that  _ is _ you!” The air traffic controller, Keld, sounded happy to hear him. “We gave you a good spot, don’t worry. Gani would chew my beard off if I put heroes near the shit tanks.”

 

Peter grinned as he set the Milano on its course towards the surface of Lothin and Rocket called Lylla to tell her where they would be parked.   

 

After landing they were ushered through a simple customs screening, and Lylla met them with a hover-truck to take them to her house. She was similar in size to Rocket, and also had a tail and fur, but they were not much alike beyond those traits. She wore a sleeveless blue dress with no pockets or decoration besides a belt of knotted cord and metal fittings. Her fur was sleek instead of fluffy, and yellow brown in color. It was a little lighter on her lower face and neck, and there was a shimmery blue and red design in the fur on her forehead.  Drax suspected that was dyed, since she otherwise lacked strong contrasting markings. Her muzzle was shorter than Rocket’s, and her nose more broad with stiff vibrissae on either side. Her ears were small, barely standing out from her head.  Her fingers (and toes, he noticed after she slid out of the truck) were webbed. Rocket had said she worked on a fish farm. Drax wondered if she had a natural affinity for water.  

 

Groot rushed up to her, smiling widely, and she pressed herself against their legs and stroked their skin. Rocket approached more casually and leaned against Groot as well. “Thanks in advance for putting up with this bunch.”

 

“I missed you too, asshole.” Her tone was affectionate and she reached out to straighten the lines of his flight suit and smooth the fur on his head. 

 

In return he poked at her brightly colored spots of fur. “What’s with the dye job?” 

 

“It’s a micro-pigment that doesn’t compromise my fur at all. I was in the mood to do something frivolous.” Her speech had an undertone of challenge that Drax didn’t understand. 

 

“Hm.” Rocket tilted his head and regarded Lylla for a moment. “It’s nice, I guess.”

 

Groot traced the design with their long fingers and said “I am groot.” in a tone of quiet approval. Then they pivoted so that Lylla could get a better view of Drax, Gamora, and Peter. “I  _ am _ groot.” They nudged Rocket’s shoulder.

 

“Right, introductions.” Rocket stepped forward and gestured to everyone in turn. “This is Drax: martial artist and best cook on the ship. This is Gamora: all-around deadly and kind of our weird, violent conscience. And this is Peter--”

 

“Starlord,” Peter interjected.

 

“...he owns the ship and he’s our public face, but he’s not the leader.”  

 

Peter made an indignant noise and Gamora grinned. Lylla gave Rocket a sideways look. She was surely used to his style of interpersonal interaction. 

 

“And this is Lylla,” Rocket concluded. “Businesswoman, upstanding member of the Lothin community, and way too classy to tell embarrassing stories about me.”  

 

“Well they’re so much better when you tell them yourself,” Lylla replied. She waved a hand at the group. “Hello, nice to meet you all. Just let me adjust the seats in the truck and we can get going.”

 

She climbed back into the driver’s seat and did something that caused the back of the truck to reconfigure itself into benches of an appropriate size for the larger team members. Rocket sat next to Lylla and everyone else got in the back. 

 

Lylla lived about a 30 minute drive from the port, in a wooded area near the fish farm she helped manage. Her house was both built to dwarf scale (even Gamora and Groot had to duck to get through the doorway) and without spare rooms, so she had set up a temporary shelter in the yard she shared with her neighbor Desha. There was a variety of lawn furniture and a stone firepit equidistant between the two houses. It seemed as if the yard was frequently used as a communal recreation space. Desha’ house was built on the same scale as Xandaran personal dwellings, so Drax guessed her to be somewhere between Gamora and Peter in size. 

 

“Desha said she doesn’t care if you use the firepit as long as you know what you’re doing and restock the woodpile,” Lylla informed them after everyone had left their bags in the temporary shelter. 

 

“It has been over five years since I last cooked over a wood fire, but I believe I retain the skill,” Drax stated. 

 

Peter grinned. “Awesome! That’s something I definitely couldn't learn in the Eclector’s galley.” 

 

Drax gathered logs and kindling into the firepit and arranged them carefully. Gamora, Lylla, Peter and Rocket watched with interest, but Groot stayed several feet  back. “Rohaka taught me this,” Drax explained as he touched a lighter to the driest tinder. “You must start the fire long before you want to cook on it, to give it time to become coals instead of open flame. Coals produce more consistent heat.” 

 

“Great, that gives me and Rocket and Groot time to go pick up some fish from the holding pens,” Lylla said. 

 

“Dragging me into a nature walk already…” Rocket grumbled. 

 

“He thinks I don’t know he loves it!” Lylla stage-whispered, grinning. Groot laughed softly. Rocket frowned and scoffed, but he followed eagerly when Lylla and Groot started down a well-worn path in the underbrush. 

 

A short time later Drax and Gamora were comparing martial arts styles and working on combo moves (which they liked to do whenever there was suitable space) while Peter worked on “homework” from Mediator Tarrad and kept an eye on the fire. He didn’t have his walkman on and he was absently whistling a tune he’d picked up from Yondu. 

 

There was an answering whistle, which is brain took a few seconds to parse into Centaurian. “You eat with that filthy mouth, boy?”

 

Peter leapt to his feet and looked toward the sound, halfway expecting to see his former captain. Instead, he saw a Centaurian woman. She was older than Peter, but not as old as Yondu. Her red fin was intact, but she had visible scars on the left side of her face and neck, and on her left arm. They looked like she had gotten too close to older-style blaster fire bouncing off rock or physical shielding. She wore an olive green short-sleeved tunic over darker green pants and lightweight ankle boots. She carried a backpack and had two holsters on her belt. One held a yakka arrow, the other held what looked like a stun pistol. Her lips were pursed and her eyes were crinkled with amusement. He wasn’t sure if that was good, because the song he’d been whistling really wasn’t appropriate for any company besides drunken pirates. 

 

She took a couple steps toward him. She moved with such confidence and control that he had to stifle the urge to whistle that he did all sorts of things with his filthy mouth. That would not be the right kind of escalation. “Hi,” he said instead, “I’m a guest of Lylla.”

 

“Huh.” She relaxed her stance a little. Peter saw her eyes flick to his left and then saw Drax and Gamora in his peripheral vision. “You’re Rocket and Groot’s new crew? I’m Desha Indara.” 

 

***

 

“Do Peter and Drax still think they know what you’re derived from?” Lylla asked quietly after she, Rocket and Groot were well out of earshot of the others. 

 

Rocket trailed in his fingers along the leaves and branches of the undergrowth that bordered the path. “Drax decided that I’m too omnivorous to be a whatever; Peter’s still pretty convinced that I’m a ‘raccoon.’ But he hasn’t seen one in almost thirty years and Terra’s under interdiction, so we’re not going there just so he can prove a point.” He paused. “Not that dumb ideas aren’t his style, but it’s more remote than Lothin for conventional travel and I think he has his own homeworld issues.”

 

“You all have homeworld issues,” Lylla reached over to straighten an imaginary wrinkle in Rocket’s flight suit. 

 

“I am groot,”  Groot sighed.

 

“Yeah,” Rocket agreed. “Once we get this contract figured out at least Drax will be able to go home.” 

 

“I’m pretty sure your tiny ship is his home now,” Lylla pointed out in her “I know you’re smarter than this” voice.  

 

Rocket hrmph’ed and scowled. “I guess home is the people your clothes smell like.”

 

“Oh Rocket, that’s almost poetic,” Lylla said, laughing. 

 

***

 

By the time Lylla, Groot, and Rocket returned to Lylla’s cottage with a bucket of fish and another of crustaceans the fire had burned down considerably and Drax, Gamora and Peter were drinking cider with Desha. 

 

Desha whistled a greeting when she saw them, and Groot waved at her happily. “I am groot!” 

 

“Your new crew’s real nice,” Desha drawled at Rocket and Groot, “but Peter here has quite the potty mouth.”

 

Rocket shrugged. “Eh, he was raised by pirates. What can you expect?”

 

“I certainly  _ did not _ expect to find a  _ human _ whistling the third verse of ‘The Lucky Hunter’ at an hour when decent folk are still going about their business.” She seemed to be trying for a severe expression, but her mouth kept twitching into a crooked grin.

 

“So, what’s the most efficient way to clean these things?” Peter asked Lylla. His tone was bright, upbeat, and clearly begging for a topic change. 

 

Lylla shrugged. “I just eat around the less tasty organs. Desha can show you.”

 

Before long Desha, Drax and Peter had finished cleaning the fish and Drax began stuffing them with a mix of fruits and herbs. Desha and Peter started cleaning the crustaceans while Gamora cut up vegetables. Groot sat near Gamora with Rocket draped over their back and Lylla sitting on their lap. 

 

“I asked Hraffa to teach me how to cook,” Lylla said, “but it didn’t work very well. She kept skipping over the foundational stuff and I kept being like ‘No, more basic than that.’ Then finally I was like ‘Ok, pretend I’m a defective child who’s never seen a kitchen,’ and she was like ‘Children aren’t made to specification in a factory. There is no such thing as a defective child.’ And then it was all  _ feelings _ .”  Somehow, in spite of the significant differences in the shape of their faces, Lylla and Rocket managed to make the same dismayed expression. 

 

“I think Peter and Drax could teach you,” Gamora said. “They’re teaching me.”

 

Groot shook their head. “I am groot.”

 

“Yeah, they  _ do _ talk about feelings a lot when they’re cooking.” Rocket turned toward Peter. “What’s up with that?”

 

Peter shrugged. “Food and feelings go together. It’s just how it is.”

 

“You can talk about  _ your _ feelings all you want,” Lylla said. “I just don’t want to have to confront my own deep-seated whatever just to learn to boil water, you know?”

 

Gamora remembered learning to make meatballs and her mouth quirked into a wry grin. “Sometimes you just can’t avoid those deep-seated whatevers in the kitchen.”

 

“Part of the reason I never bothered to learn to be a good cook,” Desha admitted. 

 

Lylla brushed a hand over the fur of her opposite arm. “Uhhh… maybe I’ll just stick with eating the fish right out of the pond.”

 

“You might change your mind after you eat Drax’s cooking,” Rocket warned. 


	21. Twenty-One

 

The team decided to stay on Lothin until they finished writing their contract, then take Lylla with them when when they left, rather than have her take commercial transportation to Levavas for the wedding. Also, having space to physically get away from each other seemed to help with the contract writing process. 

 

Eventually, Lylla agreed to let Drax show her basic kitchen knife skills, with the understanding that he was to start at the very beginning and avoid talking about feelings as much as possible. They were slicing a sweet root that tasted like carrots infused with maple syrup. The end goal was a Dwarven desert that sounded like a cross between sweet-potato pie and cheesecake. 

 

“You are doing very well,” Drax said. 

 

Lylla shrugged. “This part isn’t hard. Would a kitchen knife break if I stabbed someone with it?”

 

“It depends on the quality of the knife and if you hit bone.” Drax didn’t see anything out of the ordinary in the question. Peter didn’t either, but he thought maybe he should. 

 

“Would it be breaking the ‘No Feelings Talk’ rule if I asked about how your people do weddings?”

 

“Yes,” said Drax, “but I don’t mind.”

 

“I first had this at a wedding feast, so now I’m thinking about weddings. Is this why people talk about feelings when they cook? Cause eating is social for regular people so food makes them think about social interactions?”

 

Drax pondered that for a minute while he gathered the slices of maple carrot into a pot and set the pot on a camp stove. “Perhaps. I often think of my father Rohaka when I cook, because I learned to cook from him.”

 

“Also, eating is necessary for survival, so people tend to develop pretty strong feelings about it very early in life.” Peter offered. 

 

“I definitely have feelings about where certain cyber-biologists can stick their kibble,” Rocket said. 

 

Lylla looked faintly betrayed. “You said you wouldn't talk about feelings!”

 

Rocket rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t being touchy-feely, that hardly counts. Anyway, you started it.”

 

“Ugh, fine.” Lylla turned back to Drax. “What would you cook for your wedding?”

 

“I do not plan on cooking for our wedding. I want to hire the catering company that Rohaka worked for. My friend Slar told me they still use his recipes.”

 

Peter saw Gamora draw in a little breath, touched by the idea of eating food as Drax’s father would have prepared it. The thought touched Peter as well. 

 

“I would like to get roast semmer with atra-fruit glaze.” Drax continued. “It is a traditional celebration food because it feeds many people. It is prepared for many different gatherings, not only weddings.”

 

“What do Terrans eat at weddings?” Gamora asked Peter.

 

“Cake. At least in the part of Terra that I come from. Like, a really fancy one with layers. Tiers. And lots of icing, so sugary that I would almost make myself sick on it.” He sighed. “And the top tier had the most decoration, including little models of the bride and groom. And they were supposed to save the top in the freezer instead of eating it.”

 

“What?” asked Rocket, “Just leave it in the freezer taking up valuable space forever?”

 

Gamora chimed in next: “Was this some form of superstitious ritual? To preserve the couple’s happiness along with the cake?”

 

“I honestly don’t know,” Peter said. “I was a little kid. No one told me why anything was happening, just when I had to sit down and behave myself.”

 

Drax stirred the maple carrots and put the lid back on the pot. “Would you like a fancy cake at our wedding celebration?” 

 

Peter thought about it. No one had to know about the tradition of the bride and groom smushing cake into each other’s faces. “Yeah. I’d like a fancy cake. We don’t have to save the top though.”

 

“Do they have actual food at Terran weddings, or just desert?” Gamora teased. 

 

“Yes, there was actual food.” Peter looked up at the trees surrounding Lylla and Desha’s cottages, as he tried to remember more details. “And fancy clothes. And music and dancing. The wedding party would wear flowers. The bride and groom would give each other rings, and a priest or judge would tell them what to say for the ceremony.”

 

“No contract?” Drax asked. 

 

“No… Spoken vows, but not a written contract. There was the marriage license, but I think that was just proof that the marriage was legally valid.”

 

“You guys are getting pretty close to finishing your contract, right?” Lylla asked.

 

Peter nodded. 

 

Gamora blinked. “I guess we are.” 

 

“Mediator Terrad is very skilled,” Drax said. “I did not expect to progress this quickly.”

 

“Quickly!? We’ve been working on it for more than two months!” Rocket countered. “And most of it with the understanding that we’re going to come back in a year and revise as necessary.”

 

“Why would you  _ not _ do it that way if it was an option?” asked Lylla. “Who would want to be like ‘Here’s the rest of your life; no takebacks!’?”

 

“May people believe that planned revisions are a sign of in-authentic love,” Drax explained. 

 

“That’s stupid.” Lylla’s judgemental inflection on that phrase was exactly the same as Rocket’s.

 

Drax shrugged. “Yes, but people believe it anyway.”

 

“I am groot?”

 

Peter looked up. Groot had spent most of their time at Lylla’s just being a tree, putting down roots and taking in sunlight. They were now only a few inches shy of their pre-Xandar size and their voice had settled into it’s previous depth. 

 

“Flowers?” Peter replied uncertainly. His Groot-reception was only starting to develop. “I wouldn’t say no to flowers. On Earth the bride got the most flowers, the groom just got a lapel corsage… But I don’t want to stick with all the traditions anyway.” 

 

“I’ll wear your flowers,” Gamora said with a smile. “I remember flowers at spring and summer weddings. “And colored lights at winter ones.” Her eyes half-closed. “The other thing I remember from weddings was the couple would build something… hmm… or put up a gazebo or a tent to symbolize the life the were building together. Or improve an existing house, if they already had one.” Her voice got slower and more distant as she tried to call upon old, blurry memories. “My parents… painted their house. I think their friends helped them? People had paint splotches in their hair in the wedding pictures. Every anniversary someone would tease them about taking too long to paint the bedroom and almost being late to their own wedding ceremony.”

 

She blinked slowly. “I can’t believe I remember that. I haven’t thought about that in decades.”

 

“Okay.” Lylla said suddenly. “I officially give up on trying to do cooking without feelings. I acknowledge that it is impossible.”

 

Groot patted her on the shoulder and went to plant themself in a patch of bare ground with a good view of the sunset. 

 

Later, after Lylla had said goodnight and retired to her cottage, and Rocket had star-gazed on Groot’s shoulders until Groot fell asleep, he folded open the door to the temporary shelter the Guardians were staying in. The other’s were lying in bed with Drax in the middle and Gamora and Peter on either side, like they did in the Milano. Back on the ship Rocket would alternate between piling in with the others and sleeping in his own bunk near the ceiling. On previous visits with Lylla he had alternated between curling up with Lylla in her bed, or sleeping on Groot. Groot had only recently gotten big enough for that to be an option again, and Rocket made the rounds between his sleeping companions as the mood struck him. 

 

Gamora started giggling as Rocket changed into his pajamas. He climbed onto the bed and settled into the empty corner above her head and shoulders.

 

“What?”

 

“Painting! The bedroom!” Gamora said between attempts at breathing. “My mother and father could barely keep their hands off each other long enough for their own wedding. And no one let them live it down!” 

 

She giggled again, and when she tried to catch her breath it turned into a sob. Drax folded his arms around her and held her close to his chest. Peter sat up and reached over Drax to lay a hand on Gamora’s back. After a moment of frozen uncertainty Rocket began to pet her hair. 

 

Eventually, she quieted to sniffles. Peter got up and brought her a wet-nap and a bottle of water. 

 

“Thank you.” Gamora wiped the tear stains off her face and Drax’s chest. She sat up and began to sip the water. 

 

Rocket kept running his fingers through her hair, gently untangling it. Before Xandar and the Infinity Stone he wouldn’t have thought to apply his bomb-making delicacy to another person. Now, well, it didn’t exactly come naturally, but he was starting to like it. 


	22. Twenty-Two

 

Drax awoke abruptly, surprised he had slept at all. The Milano was currently on the way to Levavas. Rocket was piloting through the night-cycle, taking a careful route through less popular jump points. Less popular usually also meant less comfortable, and Drax thought it had been a hyper-jump’s reality warping effects that had woken him. He slowly eased himself out of the bunk. Gamora was wrapped up in her blanket and barely reacted, but Peter stirred and reached for him. “Shhh,” Drax mimicked the sound Peter used to soothe or quiet others, and nudged his pillow under Peter’s hand. Peter wrapped his arms around the pillow and settled back into full sleep. Drax managed to back out of the sleeping area without stepping on Groot, who was sleeping seated on the deck by foot of the bunk, or waking Lylla, who was curled up in a nest of blankets in Groot’s lap. 

 

He checked to make sure the deck of the common area was free of hazards before beginning a sequence of stretches and martial arts forms. Similar to how he often thought of Rohaka when he cooked, he often thought of Gorrok when he practiced his forms. Drax believed the doctrine that death was rebirth into a different life, and that he would be with his parents, and Hovat, and Kamaria, after he died. That belief did not always make it easier to endure their absence. He valued being able to remember Gorrok in this way and have the memories feel pleasant instead of painful. 

 

By the time he finished the basic forms he no longer felt the after effects of the last hyper-jump. He climbed the stairs to the cockpit and sat in the left chair. 

 

“You should be sleeping,” Rocket did not look away from the viewports. “You’re gonna wear yourself out tomorrow with feelings.”

 

Drax nodded. “That is likely.” He leaned back against the headrest. It smelled faintly of Peter’s hair. 

 

“But you’re gonna sit there instead of going back to bed?” 

 

“I will attempt to sleep again soon.” 

 

Rocket huffed and rolled his eyes. “Don’t blame me if you fall asleep in your chair and wake up all stiff.”

 

“I will not fall asleep in the chair,” Drax said with dignified certainty. 

 

“Okaaaay.” Rocket consulted a star map and navigation beacon readings, then made minute adjustments to the Milano’s course. He hummed quietly. The tune seemed like a variation of one of Peter’s songs.

 

Drax fell asleep in the chair. 

 

He awoke in the big bunk. Rocket was asleep beside him, and Lylla was stroking Rocket’s fur and watching both of them. 

 

“Groot carried you to bed,” she informed him in a whisper. 

 

Drax grunted acknowledgment and blinked a few times. After a moment he remembered falling asleep in the pilot’s chair. “Are we there yet?” He whispered as well. 

 

“Yeah,” Lylla nodded. “Peter’s getting landing clearance. It’s really early morning in your hometown’s local time.” 

 

Rocket had taken the time to change clothes from his flight suit to pajamas, but Lylla apparently did not wear clothes to sleep. She did not wear clothes to swim either, so Drax had seen her naked several times during the Guardians’ visit at her home. 

 

“Rocket does not like to be naked, but you don’t mind.” He observed.

 

“Eh… I used to mind being seen naked. But I’m in and out of the water so much at home that I had to get over it. Rocket thinks that without clothes he looks like an animal.” Lylla touched the blue and red design dyed into the fur on her forehead. “I got the tiara dye job a little bit so I would look less like an animal, but mostly because I think it’s pretty.”

 

“On Levavas, facial markings are a significant part of gender presentation.”

 

She nodded. “Rocket told me about it, and gave me a cheat-sheet to study on the way. I like how straightforward it is, once you know what you’re looking for. The Dwarves have some secret code in their hairstyles, but it’s really subtle and I haven’t figured it out yet. They also use the gender signifiers of the cultures they interact with, so they do pants-and-muscles versus dresses-and-cleavage like Asgard does a lot of the time. They say that contemporary Asgard culture is pretty conservative about their male/female gender binary, so the Dwarves that don’t fit in that usually don’t mention it to outsiders. But the local culture on Lothin is changing that! Part of the whole reason for the colony was to try interacting a little bit with galactic society without having to filter it through the Asgardians and their..” She made a vague but encompassing gesture with her hands. “...stuff.”

 

“I did not realize that any Asgardian client races were unhappy with their arrangements,” Drax said. 

 

“Their news doesn’t exactly get around,” Rocket mumbled against Lylla’s fur. “But Lylla gets all the juicy Asgard rumors.”

 

Gamora leaned against the bunk alcove opening. “Asgard politics might actually be important again soon. The heir disappeared after the queen’s death. King Odin is going to need to put a lot of effort into looking strong, and who knows what ancient knowledge and artifacts they have laying around.” She sat down on the bunk and put her hand on Drax’s ankle. “We might get some work out of it, but we don’t have to think about it this week. We’re cleared for atmospheric entry in twenty minutes, so it’s time to get up.”

 

She stood up and went towards the flight deck. Lylla followed, grabbing a dress out of her luggage on the way. Rocket sighed and flopped on his back before rolling to his feet and jumping off the bunk. Drax stood as well, then went to have a quick shower before he dressed.

 

Rocket and Peter piloted the Milano along their assigned landing path and Drax took the third flight deck seat. They were landing at Kuthides Docks, which took up an artificial island on the northwest tip of the Chatis Archipelago. His mother had often flown in and out of that facility. As the Milano got closer Drax could see that the bridge between the Docks and the nearest natural island was rebuilt, though not the tram that used to run on it. There were busses running now. Most of buildings on the artificial island had been destroyed. The new buildings had pleasing shapes and proportions, but seemed austere without the murals and mosaics that had adorned the old buildings. 

 

After the Milano touched down everyone collected their luggage and disembarked. They stopped at customs where everyone besides Drax received the physical copies of their travel visas, and everyone had their personal weapons scanned into the police database. Drax had warned the team about this process ahead of time, and had expected Rocket to argue. Fortunately Rocket agreed to treat visits to Levavas as he did visits to Lothin, and behave as a law-abiding traveler. Rocket conducted the entire transaction balanced on Groot’s shoulder, but Lylla discovered the fold-out stairs designed to allow smaller offworlders to see over the customs counter. She presented a stun pistol similar to Rocket’s and a small knife. Drax had not seen the weapons before, but he would have been more surprised if she did not have them. 

 

Groot unfurled a few leaves to catch the early morning sunlight and turned their face toward the wind. Lylla allowed them to carry her to the shuttle bus stop. Everyone looked around with interest. Drax thought that Peter might enjoy hearing about the pirates that sailed around the Chatis Archipelago centuries ago, but he found himself unable to speak, overwhelmed by the familiarity of the smell of the sea air. Gamora briefly clasped his hand. For her that was an unusually public display of affection. Peter dozed on his shoulder during the shuttle ride, but the others were alert. He could see Gamora, Lylla and Rocket assess the other passengers on the shuttle and every passing vehicle. Lylla’s combat training and ingrained wariness showed more clearly when she was away from her home and community. Drax wondered how much his behaviour would be different on his homeworld, though it did not quite feel like home anymore. 

 

Slar was waiting for them at the disembarking shuttle stop. He was one of the tallest people in the small crowd gathered there, and was bouncing on his toes. The movement was so familiar, and so characteristic of Slar, that Drax had paradoxically forgotten to expect it. He drew a breath to call out, but again found himself unable to speak. Of course Slar noticed him anyway, and rushed up to him, smiling and crying at the same time. 

 

“Drax!” Slar picked him up and spun him around. Drax was startled into laughing, and felt tears in his own eyes as well. 

 

Slar set Drax back on his feet, then wiped the tears from his own face. “Hello, it is good to see you all in person.” He looked at Lylla, barely taller than his knee. “You must be Lylla; Drax told me you would be visiting as well. I am Slar.” 

 

“Hello,” Lylla replied. “Nice to meet you.” She had to crane her neck quite far to meet his eyes. Perhaps she was reconsidering not letting Groot pick her up again. 

 

“We need to make haste to get ahead of the morning traffic.” Slar led them all to the parking lot and loaded them into a van, then drove them across the island, toward  the bridge to the mainland and Ottstal City. Slar still lived in a neighborhood close to where he and Drax had grown up, and where their parents had lived until the Kree attack. Slar and Elna had their house rebuilt instead of moving to a less affected area of the city. 

 

Drax closed his eyes as Slar exited the highway. The idea of driving through the remains of once-familiar city blocks was suddenly more than he could deal with before breakfast. He may have slept; it seemed that very little time passed before the van came to a stop. 


	23. Twenty-Three

 

Even with all the ruined buildings and piles of rubble that were still around, Peter thought Ottstal City looked like a really nice place to live. The road surfaces were in good repair, there seemed to be lots of parks, and the new houses looked well thought out, not like hasty shanties built just to put a roof over people’s heads. The houses were all decorated. Sometimes all the houses on a block would be in similar style, sometimes a few different styles all coexisting. He saw a big yard and garden shared between a house that was painted stucco and tile work and a house that was clad in a mosaic of multicolored polymer shingles. The variety was more inviting than Nova’s cool uniformity. 

 

The houses on Slar’s block were all a combination of colorful stucco, tile, and stone, with mostly rounded edges and the occasional exposed wood (or possibly synth-wood) beam. Slar’s house had a deep front porch that extended into a carport on the side. The proportions were all just a little bigger than what Peter was used to and he was starting to feel as if he had shrunk.

 

That feeling intensified when everyone went inside to be greeted by Slar’s family. Slar being big enough to pick up Drax without much effort was one thing, but Slar, Elna, and Slar’s mom Masara all simultaneously going into Good Host mode and trying to make everyone comfortable while towering over them was another. Rocket was definitely not coming down from Groot’s shoulder. Lylla looked like she might want to join him up there, even though she normally didn’t like heights. The awkwardness just sort of grew until Masara made an exasperated “tsk” sound and enfolded Drax into a long, enveloping hug. 

 

“I am so glad to see you alive,” She murmured. Drax just sighed into the hug, and everybody seemed to take a breath and relax their shoulders. 

 

Hirak handed little Tel over to Slar. “I’ll show you where the guest room is.” 

 

He led Gamora, Groot, Lylla, Peter and Rocket upstairs and opened the first door on the left. The room was dominated by a large bed, but there was also a bedside table, an overstuffed armchair, and a closet. “I hope this is alright. Drax wrote that you all often share the same bed. There are more pillows and blankets in the cupboard in the hall. The bathroom is the first door on the right. I checked the ingredients in the soap for common offworlder allergens, but I could not find much information about less common allergens.”

 

He stood in the hall and let everyone put their luggage down in the guest room. “Masara made breakfast. A lot of breakfast. Please come and eat some of it.”

 

He offered them a small smile. “I do not know Drax very well, but I am happy for all of you. Drax wrote that your cultures are different, but for us... Drax is coming back from death. Slar and Masara are very emotional about it, and Elna as well. If you need to speak with someone with less emotional proximity to the situation, do not hesitate to ask me.”

 

Peter clapped him lightly on the shoulder. “Thanks for the offer, man. I’m pretty sure we’ll take you up on it.”

 

Breakfast was calmer, though Masara sat next to Drax and kept touching him, just little brushes on the arm or shoulder, as if to make sure he was really there. Drax didn’t seem to mind. Tel kept picking up pieces of food and then forgetting to put them in his mouth. Trying to get the toddler to focus on food when there were a bunch of funny looking strangers at the table seemed to drain off a lot of Slar’s nervous energy. Peter recognized the dishes from Drax’s cooking, though some of the specific fruits and vegetables were new to him.  He made a mental note to schedule a shopping trip for the seasonings and condiments that Drax was always wishing for, then thought of the trading stall on Yula 5, all those months ago. The teamfamily wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for that one old guy who couldn’t mind his own business. 

 

After breakfast Elna left for work, reluctantly and with many apologies. Masara and Slar whisked Drax out to the back yard for what looked like some serious talk. Hirak, Gamora, and Peter took care of the dishes while Groot kept Tel entertained. Rocket was trying to not be a jerk, which meant that he didn’t know what to do with himself. Lylla was probably still getting used to being on a planet where the average height was more than four and a half feet tall. She looked up at the tallest kitchen shelves with an expression of distrust.

 

“Why the size dimorphism?” She inquired the next time Hirak looked in her direction.

 

“The best theory is that seeded Levavathi are smaller than bearing Levavathi because our bodies don’t need to accommodate pregnancy and therefore being smaller and using fewer resources is a good evolutionary strategy.” Hirak laughed. “Being relatively little has worked well for me.”

 

“Cute little husband!” Tel piped up from the living room, where they were showing Groot some of their toys.

 

“Yes,” Hirak agreed mildly, “That is what your mother calls me.”

 

***

 

“Drax,” Slar began, “We are very happy that you are making a new family with your team…”

 

“Although your offworlders are surprising,” Masara interjected.

 

“Mother!”

 

“It’s alright. They surprised me as well.” Drax didn’t think Masara was expressing disapproval as much as mild disbelief. 

 

Slar took a deep breath. “Your lives are dangerous. Masara and I-- and Elna and Hirak-- want  you to know that if your partners die you have family with us, and if you die they have family with us. Even if they do not believe they need it.”

 

“We want to adopt you into our family,” Masara said plainly. “If we submit the forms before the wedding then your fiances will be able to claim ties with us after the wedding.”

 

For a moment no one spoke. Abruptly Drax leaned into Massara and hugged her hard. It was almost as good as hugging one of his own parents. Her skin was starting to soften with age, but her grip was still strong. 

 

“I want to say yes, but I think I should talk with the others about it. And we have enemies… Peter and Gamora have especially personal ones. It may be dangerous to be related to us.”

 

Masara tucked his head against her shoulder and held him harder. It made him think of Gamora: her great strength and her great capacity for hope. 

 

“We know you have enemies. We will just keep it private.” Masara said stubbornly. 

 

“If I had known then that sibling adoption was still legal I would have asked you to be my brother five years ago,” Slar said quietly. “I feel foolish for assuming that the laws did not exist just because no one used them any more. Elna and I actually talked about asking you to join our marriage to keep you on Levavas, but we did not think you would have said yes.”

 

“I would not have said yes,” Drax agreed. “I could not feel anything but rage. I barely noticed time passing. I spent almost two years in the Kyln and none of it seemed like actual days or weeks. It felt like the way time passes in dreams.”

 

Slar crowded up to Drax. It was pleasant to be pressed between the two people who had known him longest of anyone living. 

 

“I saved all the pictures I could from your house,” Slar said. “The prints are in storage, but I put everything on memory crystals too. And I saved the cabinet Hovat made for your third anniversary. It was a little damaged, but someone from her workshop repaired it.”

 

Drax laughed even as he felt tears burn his eyes. “She did say it would outlast the house.”

 

When Drax was ready to go back inside the only people downstairs were Hirak, who was tidying the kitchen, and Groot and Tel, who were playing in the living room. Well, Tel was playing a cooperative hand clapping game and Groot was following along as best they could. Tel seemed to find it hilarious. They were giggling so much they did not notice the other adults approach until Masara spoke. 

 

“It’s time to get ready  to go to the park with Grandma.”

 

“Can Groot go too?”

 

Groot shook their head. “I am groot.” 

 

“Groot needs to help with wedding preparations,” Drax translated. 

 

“But Lakaro will be there!” Masara said before the disappointed pout could fully form on Tel’s face. 

 

“Yay!” Tel jumped up and followed Masara. 

 

Groot looked at Drax for a moment before they rose from their seat on the floor and gently pulled Drax close to lean against them. 

 

Drax had first learned of this Flora Colossus expression of affection when Goot was very small. Groot had been running around and around on the surface of the common area table, working off one of the energy spikes their developing metabolism was subject to.  When Drax sat down and rested his elbows on the table Groot ran up and flung their tiny body backwards to sprawl against Drax’s arm. Drax had at first thought that Groot had worn themselves out too much, but Rocket explained that entrusting one’s weight to another was something like a hug among Groot’s people. 

 

“I am Gooot?”

 

“I am alright, but there is something I need to discuss with everyone. Where are the others?”

 

Groot led Drax upstairs to the guest bedroom. 

 

Peter sprawled on the bed. Rocket sat at the foot of the bed with a partially-disassembled device in front of him. Lylla sat near Peter’s head and was combing her fingers through his hair. Gamora was unpacking her suitcase. 

 

Rocket spoke over his shoulder at Lylla. “Whoever said it was okay to submerge this is a flarking lier. I can fix it but-- are you grooming Peter?” 

 

Lylla quickly pulled her hands into her lap. “No?” 

 

Rocket snorted. “Okay. Whatever you say.”

 

“Sorry I’m being weird,” Lylla said quietly. 

 

“It’s okay,” Peter replied. “We’re all weird. I don’t mind you petting my hair.”

 

“I am Groot.” Groot sat down in the armchair and extended their arms to grab Rocket’s suitcase and start unpacking. 

 

“Groot’s right, social grooming is important for bonding. You’re not even being that weird right now.” Gamora offered Lylla an encouraging smile. 

 

Drax sat near Peter’s shoulder, on the other side of the bed from Lylla. “Slar and Masara have invited me to join their family through adoption. They want to do it before the wedding so that the rest of the team will be family by marriage after the wedding.”

 

“How far does that extend?” Lylla asked. “I mean, Rocket’s my next of kin, officially. We’re legally family under Lothin law, and therefore Dwarf law, and it counts in other Yggdrasil Realms as well.”

 

“It doesn't count in Nova law though, and Levavas is allied to Nova, but doesn't really have any diplomatic relationship with Asgard and their deal.” Rocket added. “I’m putting you in my will and all, but “foster sibling” isn’t recognized as a legal relationship in the Nova Empire. I’ve got sort-of Nova citizenship, but just a really flexible visitor visa for Lothin, so I don’t know how much Lothin family law can apply to me when I’m not actually there.”

 

“Mediator Tarrad said that those sorts of legal questions are usually decided on a case by case basis. Slar’s family will consider you to be family because Rocket does.” Drax was glad that it was not his job to determine how Levavathi law would interpret both Nova and Yggdrasil Realm customs. Mediator Tarrad had been very intrigued by the question, and had passed it along to specialists in immigration and offworld law. 

 

Peter rolled onto his side and pillowed his head on Drax’s thigh. “You want to do it.” It was not a question. Of course Peter could perceive how Drax felt about it. “Is there any reason not to? I mean, besides making your people here a target for anyone with a grudge against us.” 

 

Drax sighed. “I did remind them that we have enemies, but it did not deter them.” He paused to find words for a thought he did not like to acknowledge. “I think that many Levavathi who lived through the Kree attack do not really believe in safety the same way they did before. I do not think that Slar or Masara perceive being associated with us as significantly more dangerous than just existing in the universe.”  

 

Gamora paused in the middle of closing a drawer. “They’re probably not wrong. Drax, the whole reason we are here is because we want you to have a family to belong to.”

 

“We want all of us to have a family to belong to,” Peter added. “If that means doing in-law stuff with your best friend and his spouses and somewhat intimidating mom that’s fine. I’m pretty sure I’ll be awesome at being the cool uncle.”

 

“I’ll be the bad influence!” Rocket volunteered cheerfully. 


	24. Twenty-Four

 

The rest of the week passed in a busy blur. 

 

Masara insisted on taking Drax shopping for formal-wear. This mostly involved Drax serenely ignoring her fussing suggestions while Slar grew increasingly frustrated with them both. ( _ “Did you expect a different outcome, Mother? He has had the same taste in clothing since we were children!” _ ) Peter found their interactions amusing, but Gamora regretted not going with Rocket, Groot, and Hirak to purchase last-minute party supplies. She split from her group and wandered through the shops selling clothing and draperies and rich bolts of cloth. 

 

One of the shops caught her eye with objects made out of differently colored pieces of cloth all stitched together. A large rectangular hanging almost glowed with the contrast of sunset oranges and bright blues. The pattern was like a starburst or a stylized flower with interlocking shapes radiating out from a round center. The component pieces had different textures as well as different colors and Gamora had to apply quite a bit of her self control to not reach out and touch. 

 

“You have good taste, visitor,” the shopkeeper said from a polite distance. “This is one of my favorite recent pieces.”

 

“The colors match my ship,” Gamora blurted out before she could think about it. “But nothing on my ship is this beautiful.”  _ Except the people _ . 

 

“It is reversible; the other side has a cooler color palette.” The shopkeeper folded back a corner to reveal a starburst in cobalts, purples, and magentas. One shimmery section was a match for the ends of Gamora’s hair. 

 

“Does it have a function, or is it art?” Gamora asked.

 

The shopkeeper smiled, mostly with their eyes. “Can art not have a function? ...This is meant to be a blanket. But it would also make a good room divider or wall decoration. We sell clips for that purpose.”

 

Gamora didn’t think haggling was the usual custom on Levavas, and she was so impressed with the quilt that she would have only made a token effort at bargaining anyway. She bought the quilt and four o-ring clips, then called Rocket as the shopkeeper was packaging them.

“I found something to use for a tent at the ceremony. Can you get four supporting poles? At least as tall as Groot?”

 

“So we’re not painting the bedroom?” Rocket teased.

 

“Probably not even metaphorically, considering how little rest we’ll be getting.” Gamora suspected that the only one on the team who wasn’t going to collapse with relief after the wedding was Groot. Now that they were full size again they seemed to have unending reserves of calm.

 

Rocket laughed ruefully. “No kidding.”

 

***

In the room we will find nothing/ In the room we will find each other --Margaret Atwood, “Hesitations Outside the Door”

 

There was a meeting to finalize the menu with the caterers. There was a meeting with Mediator Tarrad to proof-read their contract. Adoption papers were hastily and quietly filed. 

 

Everyone was more emotional than usual. Drax seemed to be having the easiest time dealing with it; Gamora was both jealous and annoyed at this reversal. Peter cycled between withdrawn and clingy when he didn’t have a task to focus on and Rocket was brittley careful when he wasn’t hiding altogether. Groot worried about everyone else. 

 

Two days before the ceremony Gamora awoke in the middle of the night. Drax and Peter were curled around each other next to her. Lylla was sleeping on the armchair. Groot and Rocket had taken to sleeping in the backyard. Gamora snuck out of the guestroom, down the stairs, and out the back door. She could see Groot, asleep or mostly so, looking small next to the big tree that dominated the corner of the yard. She sat in the shadow of the tree until her eyes adjusted to the dark, then she looked up to find Rocket. She only spotted him because of his yellow flight suit. His fur blended very well with the tree bark. It wasn’t surprising that some of the native fauna had evolved similar fur patterns. 

 

“Rocket!” Gamora hissed quietly, “I can see you!”

 

He looked down at her, his eyes flashing yellow in the dark, and huffed out a resigned breath. As Rocket climbed down Groot shuffled over sleepily and sat next to Gamora. Rocket sat in Groot’s lap. 

 

“I know this probably isn’t true, but I’m worried that maybe you don’t like us anymore.” Peter and Mediator Tarrad would be proud of her for saying it out-loud. 

 

Rocket leaned against her shoulder. “I still like you. I still want to get married. I’m just… trying not to be an asshole. But I don’t know how else to be. Everyone here is so d’ast tall and… y’know... regular people. I kinda wish we could skip to the part where all the official stuff’s taken care of and we’re flying and shooting people again.” 

 

“I know what you mean, but I’m looking forward to the ceremony. I want to put up a tent with everyone, and wear Groot’s flowers, and see what you and Peter’s idea of fancy clothes are. I’d like to sleep through the next two days of waiting though.” She wriggled closer to Groot and leaned against their shoulder. She could feel them grow some vines into a backrest for her. “Thanks Groot,” she murmured. 

 

“I am Groot.”

 

Rocket flopped over into Gamora’s lap. “Yeah, Lylla did get me some nice clothes. And the food is going to be pretty good.”

 

They heard the backdoor open and all sat up straighter, but it was just Drax and Peter. The last two Guardians joined their teammates in the shadow of the tree. Peter walked carefully in the darkness, but Drax still stomped around as if uncertain footing was something that only happened to other people. Everyone sitting on the ground together in their pajamas made Gamora feel better. They were all uncertain and fallible, and, somehow, those were okay things to be when they were all together. 


	25. Twenty-Five

 

After breakfast on the morning of the ceremony Masara took Tel off to her apartment to keep them occupied until the ceremony and a small group of Drax’s former temple colleagues arrived to help set up tables and seating in the back yard.  When that was mostly done Hirak shooed the Guardians back to the house to start getting ready. Slar pulled Drax into the master bedroom for, Gamora guessed, some combination of moral support and primping. Peter and Gamora shared a shower while Lylla brushed out Rocket’s fur and Groot grew flowers. 

 

Gamora’s dress was black silk with silver brocade, with a fitted bodice and ankle-length full skirt that was easy to walk in, though it could be a liability in a fight. It was sleek and elegant, and didn’t require special underwear. Gamora was still as happy with it as when she had purchased it on Lothin.

 

Rocket’s suit was cobalt blue, woven with a pattern of interlocking chevrons and triangles. The pants were Rocket’s preferred three-quarter length, and the tunic was sleeveless. It must have had at least a few hidden pockets: Gamora watched a stun pistol and several tools disappear into it as Rocket dressed.   

 

Lylla’s dress was a pale, silvery blue, like the idea of water. She wore a loose decorative jacket over it, pinned closed with an impressive brooch in the shape of a stylized fish. 

 

Peter’s suit was white with silver lapels and a silver stripe down the outside of the pant legs. The cut was similar to Xandaran men’s formalwear, but with a few differences. The opening of the jacket was low enough to show off a waistcoat (silver brocade with a star pattern) and the cut of the jacket accentuated the width of Peter’s shoulders. Gamora fussed with his tie, though it was almost totally symmetrical already.

 

“White?” The only white she’d seen him wear before was the occasional t-shirt. 

 

“It’s traditional for Earth weddings. Well, traditional for the bride, but I know you like black.”

 

“You like to shine, Star-Lord.” She smiled at him fondly.

 

“I do like to shine.” He laughed, shameless. 

 

Lylla herded them all out of the guestroom, to regroup with Drax and Groot in the living room. Drax had been scrubbed and lightly oiled, making his marks stand out brighter than usual. He wore soft, loose pants of blue and grey shot silk. Gamora liked the way the different colors reflected from different angles. He had a thick belt of new oiled leather and old-looking metal plates. Soft ankle boots replaced his usual armored boots. 

 

Groot had flowers and small leaves growing from their head and limbs like a living festive garland. They also had circlets of flowers growing from their arm-vines, ready for everyone to wear. They plucked a single flower and stuck it Lylla’s brooch. 

 

“Thank you, Groot.” Lylla patted them on the knee, then went outside to join the other guests. 

 

Drax glanced outside the door as she went and made a quick estimate of the gathering. Their guest list was quite short, and it seemed that everyone was there. Mediator Tarrad and the official from the Records Department were chatting by the back door, and occasionally glancing at a chronometer. 

 

Mediator Terrad stood up straighter and adjusted the sash on ser ceremonial robe. “It is time to get started. Remember to breathe everyone,” se said kindly. 

 

They walked outside in height order: Rocket, Gamora, Peter, Drax, and Groot. Mediator Tarrad and the Records official followed them outside, but paused on the porch while the Guardians proceeded into the sunlit yard. The guests were arranged in a disorganized semi-circle around a space marked off with painted rocks. A table with the legal hardcopy of their contract was set up there and the starburst quilt and tentpoles waited beside it.  

 

The Guardians stopped in the middle of the space and Groot crowned them with flowers, adjusting the fit of each circlet before letting the vines break away from their arm. Then Gamora and Peter spread out the quilt and made sure the o-ring clips were attached securely at the corners. Drax, Gamora, Groot and Peter each took a pole and fitted the tip into an o-ring and attached the guy lines. They managed to lift their corners almost-simultaneously with Gamora’s count and held the poles while Rocket staked out the lines. Groot wove a grid of thin vines to provide extra stability at the top. Peter and Drax brought the table into the shade.

 

Mediator Tarrad and the Records offical joined the team under the starburst quilt. 

 

Mediator Tarrad addressed the guests: “Thank you for coming here to witness the start of a new family. Today we have the privilege of welcoming Drax back to our community as a living man with a living family. And we extend our community beyond our star system to his new spouses who have brought the strengths of their diverse origins into his life.” 

 

The gathering cheered just as loudly in Drax’s ears as when he had married Hovat and had over five times the guests. Lylla, Slar and Masara’s family, the temple warriors he had trained with, Kamaria’s best friend and ver parents, even the caterers yelled enthusiastically out the kitchen window. Drax’s breath caught in his throat and Peter reached over to squeeze his hand. 

 

“Does anyone find fault with the contract?” The Records official called over the last few cheers. He was answered with silence and general headshaking. “Please sign the contract.”

 

Drax signed in Levavathi calligraphy, though everyone else used Nova characters. Drax admired the miss-matched, perfect collection of names as the Records official stamped and dated the hardcopy. 

 

“This marriage contract has been written and signed in accordance with the customs of the temple and the laws of our government.” The Records official intoned loudly. After the resulting cheers quieted he added “May you have joy in fulfilling it.”

 

“That’s it?” Peter asked, “We’re done?”

 

“You are now officially married.” Mediator Tarrad confirmed. 

 

Peter whooped and raised his fists in the air in his customary victory gesture. 

 

“Yeah! We may now kiss our spouses!”

 

Groot leaned down to brush their leaves and flowers against Peter’s face while Rocket climbed onto the table to press his snout against Drax’s neck. For a few minutes everyone shuffled around giddily, touching and embracing. 

 

Mediator Tarrad and the guests gave them a few minutes to catch their breath and reorient themselves before bringing out the food and starting the party. 

 

The food was  _ exactly _ like how Rohaka would have prepared it. Drax knew that Head Chef Lirin must have made it that way as a gift for him; ser own style was a little different. The caterers had also done their best to make the cake match Peter’s descriptions of Terran wedding cakes. The cake had four tiers, white icing, and sugar flowers. There were also 3D printed models of the Guardians on the top tier. Peter laughed in delight when he saw it.

 

“I’m keeping these little Guardians!” 

 

Even a small yearling roast semmer was too much for this size of a gathering, but they did put a considerable dent in it before Rocket figured out how to connect Peter’s Walkman to Elna’s sound system. 

 

Peter encouraged Gamora to get up and dance with him. He gleamed in the sunlight, and when she twirled her long dress flared out and the silver threads flashed. Hirak and some of the temple warriors tried to make traditional Sobav Levavathi group dances work with Peter’s music, with much laughter and failed attempts. Finally they found a dance that fit the tempo of “Spirit in the Sky.” Peter tried to join in, which prompted Drax to get up and correct his movements. 

 

“You can dance and you never told me! What the hell, man?”

 

“I do not understand your kind of dancing. Dancing is not for showing off individual prowess. It is a cooperative group activity.” 

 

“My kind of dancing can be plenty cooperative, it’s just not this orderly.” Peter learned the movements quickly and Drax lined them both up with the other dancers for the last verse of the song. 

 

After the song ended Drax and Peter returned to their seats to cool down. 

 

“You two looked like you were having a good time.” Gamora said. “Slar got that on video.” 

 

Drax smiled. “I knew that either he or Masara would.”

 

“What about you?” Peter asked, looking at Gamora and Rocket. “Are you having fun now that the hard part is over?”

 

“Yes, I’m having fun.” Gamora scooted a little closer to Peter and leaned against him.  

 

Rocket was draped lazily over Groot’s back. Drax liked seeing him and Gamora so relaxed. “Eh,” Rocket said with a yawn, “I’m looking forward to tomorrow.”

 

“We are Groot.”

 

“Yes,” Drax agreed. “Tomorrow we will wake up as family.”

 

****

“For nothing cannot be transformed;   
Pleasure and failure feed each other daily. Do not think any breeze,   
Any grain of light, shall be withheld. All the stars will sail out for them.”

\--Joanna Klink, “Half Omen, Half Hope”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to mm8 for the art! 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who finished reading this! 
> 
> Extra thank you for anyone who has been following this story since it's origins on the guardian-kink LJ; your awesome comments were a big part of my motivation to actually finish this. 
> 
> I started this story in September of 2014, and it is the longest thing I have ever written. I am immensely pleased to have finished it and I hope you all enjoyed reading it.


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